The Collective
by garfieldodie
Summary: The lives of Calvin, Hobbes and their friends are taken through many trials and tribulations when the universe seems to be scheming to keep them apart. Through this separation, they will realize just what they mean to each other, and their lives will genuinely change forever as a result. COMPLETE!
1. A Day in the Life

**Author's Note: **_Right, here we go - the latest story in the universe of _Calvin and Hobbes: The Series_. It's been some considerable time since _Lost at Sea_ for our heroes, and things have been quiet lately. Well, quiet by their standards, anyway._ _However, things are about to get shaken up big time for them..._

_Sadly, this is a solo story with no contribution from Swing123, who seems to have moved on to bigger and better things beyond FanFiction, for which I wish him only the very best of luck. Still, I shall continue to contact him with various other ideas in future, so our partnership will still have a bit of life left in it._

* * *

Michael Johnson was known throughout his community as a fairly decent human being. This was only unique in that the world was usually full of crooks, liars and generally horrible people, so the fact that this guy was actually a half-decent person was worth taking note of. He routinely gave to charity, worked at the community center and always tipped generously at restaurants. He was even nice to the pizza delivery guy, even when he knew he spat on his pizza.

So one day, while he was out getting his paper, he surprised everyone on his street when he suddenly seemed to shout for no discernable reason. He had been in the process of bending over and picking up the increasingly obsolete bundle of news when he had let out a shriek of surprise that caused more than one person on his street to turn their heads in alarm, having not expected him of all people to make a noise that was in anyway disruptive.

Mike himself was unsure just why he had let out such a shriek. Nothing particularly out of the ordinary had happened. He had been just about to pick up the newspaper after having been in the process of bending over to pick it up when he felt a tremor in the ground, and he had looked up to see what was around. Imagine his surprise when he saw a huge scaly monster stomping down the street, growling and apparently looking for something to smash. Naturally, he had shrieked.

However, once the shriek had been completed, he had been thrown off of his feet and landed on his rear, and by the time he had looked up again, he realized that it was suddenly gone. Feeling incredibly embarrassed and keenly aware that most his neighbors were probably looking at him right now, he tried getting back to his feet and taking his paper back to the house with as much dignity as he could muster. He brushed the dirt off the back of his bathrobe and proceeded to pick up the paper again, successfully this time. He turned and started to walk up the path to his house when he heard another noise.

This noise was very different to the stomping one. He didn't think it was some sort of monster this time. Out of the corner of his eye, this time he saw that a few other people were watching as well. Tightening his hands around the lapels of his robe, he slowly turned around and prepared himself for whatever was coming now.

The sound was a loud metallic squeaking sound that was putting him off straight away as it came nearer and nearer. It was an obnoxious sound, not to mention intrusive and pedantic. It had only been plaguing his ears for a few moments and already it had outstayed its welcome. Grimacing at the unpleasantness of it, he faced it with all the patience and bravery he could bring himself to muster.

It was a wagon.

_How strange_, he thought. Mike didn't think it was possible that a wagon could just come rolling up the sidewalk like the one that was approaching him now. Normally a wagon needed to be pulled along or given some sort of momentum to keep moving. This one seemed to be perpetually rolling along the flat sidewalk, almost like a car of some sort.

Curiously, the passengers of this wagon were what you might expect to find in a little red wagon. There was a little boy with wild blonde hair at the wheel, steering the crude mode of transport as he went along, and riding in the back was a stuffed tiger that seemed to be holding onto the boy's back.

Mike could stare in befuddled amazement as the wagon squeaked and rolled along the sidewalk towards him, coming to a slow halt right in front of him. The boy looked up at him with an urgent expression.

"Excuse me, sir," he said quickly. "Did you by any chance see a giant scaly monster go stomping through here?"

Mike stared for a long moment before glancing down the street in the direction that his previous hallucination had gone. He pointed in a rather stupid fashion at the city down the road from him.

"Thanks!" the boy said gratefully, and before Mike could look back at him again, the wagon was somehow already rolling off along the sidewalk, screeching and squeaking as it went, startling the passersby on the street as they went.

For the longest moment, Mike didn't know what to do or how to react. Suddenly remembering he was still holding the paper in his hand, he decided he'd better turn around and walk back into his house before the news inside of it became so old it wasn't news anymore. He briefly toyed with the idea of taking medication and seeking professional help before he decided to wait and see if he hallucinated yet another big scaly monster before he did anything rash or expensive.

He walked back into the house, hoping nobody was staring at him and that his wife had put a pot of coffee on by now. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

"Well, he seemed like a nice guy," Hobbes remarked, throwing a glance at the man over his shoulder.

"Considering he was almost stepped on by that monster, I'd say he's exceedingly polite," Calvin replied, wrenching the steering column around as he tried to maintain their present course. "Now we just need to catch up with our giant friend and send him back where he came from!"

They came to a crosswalk and swerved through the cars that were driving past, many of them honking in anger at having their journeys interrupted by a small boy riding his wagon right into their paths. Calvin ran the wagon onto the opposite side and carried on, causing some people to dive into the ditch to avoid him.

The monster was looming in the distance. It was in the city now, stomping around and causing all kinds of trouble, including shaking the buildings.

"We need to get there faster!" Calvin yelled. "Activate the afterburners!"

"Roger!" Hobbes replied, twisting around in his seat to see to their 'motor'.

The MTM was attached to the rear of the wagon, magnetized to the red metal. His CD flap was wide open and a fan was sticking out, running on full blast so as to propel them down the sidewalk.

"We need to go faster!" Hobbes called to him.

"Okeydokey," MTM replied, and the blades on the fan seemed to extend even larger, and the wagon suddenly shot down the sidewalk, taking even more people by surprise.

"We should've done this when there were less people on the street!" Hobbes complained.

"Well, it's not my fault these people aren't burning up fossil fuels by driving everywhere!" Calvin replied. "If they're not going to be Americans, they _deserve _to be run off into a ditch!"

They clattered noisily along the sidewalk, slowly becoming surrounded by several buildings. They listened to the rumbling sounds that were coming from just around the next corner, and as they swerved violently into the square, they looked up and saw their adversary in all his destructive glory. He was standing there, stomping and growling, looking like he was ready to tear the surrounding buildings down.

Calvin steered the wagon right in front of the creature, skidding to a halt and kicking up plenty of smoke in the process. Before it had even stopped moving, he and Hobbes had both jumped out and were standing in front of it, and Hobbes had even managed to yank the MTM off the back of the wagon and toss it through the air into Calvin's hands. He held it out in front of the creature as intimidatingly as he could manage.

"Okay, beastie!" he shouted up at it. "I'm giving you one last chance! Either you surrender and be returned to your home dimension willfully, or we're going to _drag you back_! Now which is it?"

The creature stared down at Calvin for a long three seconds before it responded with the loudest and scariest roar it could muster, blowing the boy's hair back. Several people walking past seemed to react to it, but they didn't seem to notice that it was coming from the huge scaly monster that was standing in the middle of the street.

"… I'm guessing that was a 'no'," Hobbes suggested.

"Most likely," Calvin agreed before readdressing the creature. "Very well! You've made you decision! Now I've made _mine!_ MTM, you know what to do!"

"Activating communications relay," MTM replied. "Dialing phone number."

* * *

All the way back in Calvin's neighborhood was a house that was two-stories high and had a big fancy satellite dish on top of it. It was a perfectly ordinary house, but at the bottom of it was a huge fancy laboratory that had been built and maintained by the local genius, Sherman J Hamster, who was indeed a hamster with a staggering IQ.

At this moment, he was working with his human friend, Andy, who was eight-years-old with messy brown hair, a button down shirt with jeans and white sneakers. They were observing a large monitor in the middle of the lab, keeping an eye on the various avatars that represented the citizens of their town, and they were particularly interested in the large one in the middle of it all, as well as the two that were standing in front of it, one human and one feline.

The phone on the desk started ringing, prompting Andy to reach over and answer it. "Sherman's Lab," he announced. "This is Andy speaking."

He listened for a moment while Sherman waited patiently.

"… Yes, I'll tell him," he said calmly before hanging up again.

"Well?" Sherman asked.

"It said 'no'."

"I thought it might."

"Yes, now we need to get it going."

Sherman nodded and proceeded typing away at the keyboard that was designed for his tiny hamster fingers. He watched the screen change from a radar screen to a series of numbers and symbols that went flashing across its surface at an alarming rate, and yet he followed them in perfect synchronized harmony.

"Transmitting the signal… _now_!" he announced, pressing the final key with a dramatic flair.

Up above them, the fancy satellite dish began swinging around in the direction of the city, lining up perfectly with the monster's head. It hummed for a moment before it transmitted a signal that was invisible to the world, and yet powerful enough to complete its purpose.

* * *

The monster was just leaning over to devour Calvin and Hobbes when it felt a strange sensation rush through its head. For some reason, it didn't seem able to understand what it was supposed to be doing at the moment. It didn't know what eating was. It didn't know what food was. It didn't know where it was or who it was or _what _it was. What was it doing here? What was its purpose?

As the creature stood there and contemplated the meaning of existence, it didn't notice Calvin signal to Hobbes.

The tiger immediately started to run around the monster, drawing its attention. It watched as Hobbes ran in a long circle all the way around it, causing it to stare in confusion. Why was the orange thing running around it? What was orange? What did 'running' mean? What was going on…?

With Hobbes distracting it sufficiently, Calvin used the MTM to shine a bright green light into the sky, and he waved it about, alerting the next member of the team that it was his turn to contribute.

A few moments later, a familiar cube-shaped object came zooming across the sky, heading straight for the creature. It was the cardboard box, and it had a single passenger steering it out over the scene.

Socrates was a tiger like Hobbes, but he was far from being catlike in nature. While Hobbes embraced his feline heritage, Socrates was more like an insane human in a tiger costume who was obsessed with playing practical jokes on everyone he met. If he could just entertain his own instant gratification, he was a happy tiger. He wasn't particularly well-liked by the rest of the group, but seeing as how he was generally fearless and creative when it came to defeating their various adversaries they pretty much let him be a part of the group. Plus, he didn't know that he had a small transmitter and receiver chip in his brain that allowed them to contact the outside world, so they kind of needed him.

At the moment, he was flying the box out over the city, and he was aiming what appeared to be an old-fashioned microphone for a computer straight at it, except it was missing a cord. He aimed it just right and pressed the button, causing a bright light to shoot out at the creature.

"Jambo!" Socrates called out cheerily.

The strange light struck the monster, and it seemed to envelope him entirely. It was accompanied by a strange sound as well.

_**ZZZZEEEEEEE**__EEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeep!_

The creature proceeded to shrink down into a much smaller size. It looked around in confusion, and then, the ray that Andy and Sherman had been firing at its brain ceased, and it suddenly remembered that it was supposed to be destroying the city. Unfortunately, this proved rather difficult as it was now about half of Hobbes' size. It proceeded to launch itself at the tiger, but Hobbes simply put out a paw and held it back as it thrashed and growled cluelessly.

Calvin held up the MTM again, and a moment later, a strange suction began to pull the creature backwards towards it. Hobbes pleasantly waved goodbye as it vanished into a small slot on the CD player's side.

"And we're done," Calvin said triumphantly.

He and Hobbes gave each other a high-five.

At that moment, a man came up to them. "Hey, kid! Get your toys out of the street! There was a great big earthquake just now! You ought to be more careful!"

Calvin stared at the man with irritation, unaware that the man saw him as a boy with a CD player and a stuffed tiger with a wagon. Shaking his head in disgust, he turned and walked down the sidewalk.

"Nobody notices _anything_," he grumbled.

"We should get jackets that say that," Hobbes added.

* * *

Calvin's parents were watching the news at the moment. They had been enjoying a nice afternoon. Calvin was – to the extent of their knowledge – out playing with what they assumed was his only friend, Andy. They had originally hoped that Andy's influence would be positive on their son and that he'd finally ditch the stuffed tiger, but to their disappointment, not only did Andy seem to enjoy playing with Hobbes, he seemed to have another tiger to add to their games as well. They were only vaguely aware of a pet hamster that they would play with, but they hardly ever saw it.

Still, their games seemed to keep Calvin relatively out of trouble. Compared to pre-Andy Calvin, the new Calvin seemed less likely to get into perilous situations. He was still throwing water balloons at the neighborhood girls, not to mention ignoring his homework and chores in favor of various other worthless activities, but they were getting fewer complaints about him lately, which wasn't much, but they took what they could get.

The news report they were watching was a live one. It was about an apparent earthquake that occurred in town. They were observing the reporter with the bad hair piece telling the area about what had just happened a little while ago.

They heard the door open, and they saw Calvin and Andy walk inside, pulling a box behind them that had two stuffed tigers in it, and they were talking animatedly.

"Calvin, where have you been?" Mom asked.

"Huh? Oh, hi, Mom! We were just busy saving the planet from an evil monster. We're sending it home now."

"Uh-huh… Listen – there was an earthquake today, so I want you to stay close to home just in case there's another one."

"There's not going to be another one, Mom," Calvin sighed. "We took care of it."

"Come on, Calvin," Andy said, helping him to lift the box up the stairs. "Let's get the monster back to its home dimension so we can do something else. We only get fifty-two weekends a year, you know."

Calvin nodded and helped him lift the box up the stairs.

Mom and Dad stared after them for a long moment.

"How long before we get a phone call from Andy's parents telling us to keep our kid away from him?" Dad asked at last.

"Dear!" Mom gasped, smacking his shoulder.

"I think he's a bad influence on Andy…"

"Oh, stop it. Andy's parents say that Calvin has been _good _for Andy. They say that Andy's playing videogames less and is getting out of the house more."

Dad blinked. "Wait… You've actually met Andy's parents?"

"Of course! Haven't you?"

"… I don't remember…"

* * *

Calvin, Hobbes, Andy, Sherman and Socrates brought the cardboard box back into Calvin's room and set it down in the closet.

"All right, MTM," Calvin said, pulling the CD player out. "Time to send the beast back home."

"Right…," MTM replied. "Reconfiguring trajectory of the hypercube… Any second now… Aim me at the bed."

Calvin took the MTM and aimed him at the bed.

"Okay…," MTM continued, "… reversing the electron stream… Portal should be opening now… And here he goes!"

Suddenly, there was a bright yellow light shining under the bed as a portal opened up underneath it. It was the entrance to the monster's home world shining away, ready to take him away.

The slot on the MTM's side opened up, and they watched in silent wonder as the monster was spewed out on the floor, where it landed in a heap, and then seconds later, it was once again dragged across the floor and under the bed, vanishing through the portal, which closed up like a zipper just a few seconds later, and the strange glow ceased.

"Dang monsters," Calvin grumbled. "I really wish Mom and Dad would let me get some steel reinforcements in the floorboards."

"Well!" Socrates said, rubbing his paws together. "We got that done. Now what do we do?"

"Well, thanks to the human race's inability to recognize a giant monster when they see it, we're sort of limited in locations at the moment," Calvin replied ruefully.

"Yeah, how can they have not _seen _that thing?" Andy wondered. "I mean what the heck? How could they just write it off as an earthquake? Did they not look out their windows?"

"I've been wondering about that for some time, myself," Sherman said in his intelligent tone. "The best I can figure it is that it's all due to the human brain's inability to comprehend seeing something so utterly out of place."

"Really?" Hobbes asked. "You mean, if they can't understand it, they can block it out?"

"Exactly. Humans have a remarkable ability for self-deception. If they see something they can't understand, they convince themselves they didn't see it and move on. They see a giant monster has damaged the city? They pretend an earthquake did it. An evil sentient television takes out the electricity? They convince themselves it was an electrical storm."

"Still, things have been shaken up a bit recently," Socrates said cheerily. "Ever since we revealed Rupert and Earl's spaceship to the world last summer, only half of the human race has written it off as a weather balloon."

"How's the online fan club going?" Andy asked.

"I've been elected president!"

"How are they reacting to a tiger for their president?" Calvin asked.

"They seem open to it. One of them is claiming to be a cocker spaniel, although his profile picture is of a fat dude with a goatee and x-ray specs from a magazine."

Calvin shook his head. "The world is so empty-headed sometimes. It makes me wonder what else is going on that _we're _not aware of."

"So… what do you guys want to do now?" Hobbes asked.

They all thought this one over for a moment.

"Well…," Calvin said at last, "when's the last time we played Calvinball?"

"Yesterday," Hobbes replied. "And we can't resume until the scoring dispute is settled."

"And _I _still say Oogie-oogie-boogie is a higher score than Sham-a-lam-a-ding-dong," Socrates said firmly.

"Oh, that makes _a lot _of sense!" Calvin snapped.

"Brainstorm's been pretty quiet lately," Andy added. "Ever since his video went viral, he's been waiting for just the right time to dominate the world."

"So we won't be seeing him for a few years," Sherman muttered.

Calvin looked around the room, trying to find something that he knew he hadn't already done. Unfortunately, he had already done quite a few things. He had read his comic books, he'd depleted his cookie supply, he'd played with his toys and he'd vanquished the monster under his bed.

Then his eyes fell to his backpack, which sat in the corner, mocking him. His eyes narrowed in disgust as realization struck him.

"I guess all there is to do now is my homework," he sighed in frustration.

"Ye gods," Socrates murmured. "So it's come to _this_."

"What do you have to do?" Sherman asked.

"English homework. I have to write an essay about an interesting vacation I've been on."

"And you live with the dad who loves camping," Andy remarked. "You're in trouble."

"Why don't you write about the time we went to the Planet Venkham to save a race of aliens from parasitic invaders?" Socrates suggested.

"I'm not sure how that one qualifies as a vacation," Hobbes said doubtfully.

"Why not make it about the time you got attacked by a mountain lion? Your dad remembers that. He could vouch for you," Andy proposed.

Calvin scratched his head in thought. "… That _may _work," he said slowly. "But there _was _the time Dad didn't bring the canoe all the way on shore and it drifted away, leaving us stranded there."

"We still have that stick you used to rescue it on display in the treehouse," Hobbes added.

"So many to choose from…," Calvin continued. "I remember another time Dad broke his glasses _and _left the lights on the car on… So many horrible experiences, so little paper…"

Andy checked his watch. "Well, if you're going to spend the day reliving every traumatic camping trip you ever had, I guess I'd better go. My parents will be wondering where I am after the so-called earthquake."

"Yes, I have work at the lab to get to," Sherman agreed with a sigh. "Guess I'd better hop to it."

"Yeah, I have fourteen other online clubs to maintain as well," Socrates said with a nod. "I should get to work digging through my inbox."

Everyone stared at him for a long moment before deciding they didn't really want to know what the red-tailed tiger got up to in his own time. They knew it mostly involved planning pranks, being frivolous and laughing maniacally for no particular reason, but there had to be other things going on as well…

"Well, I guess we'll call it a day then," Hobbes said, clasping his paws together.

"What are _you_ going to do today, Hobbes?" Andy asked.

Hobbes shrugged. "Well, there's a particularly pleasant spot on the living room floor right under the window that the sun should be shining on just about now. I think I'll catch some 'window rays' for half an hour. That should carry me into noon…"

"What a full life you lead," Sherman sighed.

"You should see him when he yawns," Calvin said. "I don't know where he finds the energy."

"Hardy-har-har," Hobbes replied, crossing his arms defensively. "You're just jealous."

And on that note, Andy, Sherman and Socrates left the room, rolling their eyes.

Calvin climbed up into the chair at his desk and pulled out a sheet of notebook paper to start writing his essay.

MTM finally spoke up again. "No one asked what _I'm _doing today," he complained.

"Well, let's see," Hobbes grumbled, sitting down on the bed. "Sitting on the desk until someone needs you for something. Does that sum it up?"

"… _Physically_, I suppose, but I can do other things while I'm sitting here."

"So you'll be sitting, then?" Calvin asked, grabbing a nearby pencil.

"… _Physically_…"

"Oh, how fun," Hobbes sighed.

"Go sit in your sunbeam," MTM grumbled.

Smirking triumphantly, Hobbes slunk away out the door for his favorite spot in the living room.

* * *

Socrates rarely had much to worry about. He was usually very relaxed with the world around him. Even when he was in danger, he was usually very relaxed, which was a fact that usually disturbed his friends whenever they were in serious peril. He was prone to grinning and humming theme songs and casually thinking of a vague plan that would probably save everyone, giving him one more reason to feel smug and superior, giving him more reason to play pranks on his inferiors.

He made his way to the large mansion where he lived with his human friend, Elliot. Elliot's parents had won the lottery years ago, and his father had managed to invest the money before the recession hit. He was very good at managing his money, so they were rarely in any financial trouble. They had managed to afford not only the excellent mansion they lived in, but also all of Socrates' prank utilities. They were never all that concerned by the amount of water balloons and mayonnaise they had to buy. They simply went on signing blank checks that were weirdly made out to their son's tiger.

Socrates skipped merrily up the front steps and through the large wooden double doors. He was still in good spirits after helping to save the planet. He was replaying his part over and over again, enjoying it more and more, and he couldn't wait to brag about it.

He slid past the doors, through the foyer and onto the stairs. However, he stopped when he noticed the light was on in the living room. He turned to see who was inside, and he noticed Elliot sitting on the couch, staring straight ahead at the big screen TV, which was strangely turned off. It never made any sense to Socrates why anyone would sit in front of such an expensive TV without watching it. If it was up to him, there'd be a TV in every room in the house.

Undeterred by the oddity of the situation, Socrates pranced over to his friend. "Ahh, Elliot, old bean!" he crowed. "What's the happs?"

Elliot didn't seem to register the question. He was wearing his latest pair of sunglasses, so Socrates couldn't see his eyes. The boy was in a Goth phase that had lasted three years now. He had originally been into the whole death-metal music and hair dye and tattoos – fake ones for the ten-year-old – but over time, he had lost interest in the lifestyle and simply enjoyed the clothes that came with it.

"Well, that's fascinating," Socrates said passively after leaving a blank for a response. "Anyway, I just saved the entire planet from a horrible beast from under Calvin's bed. I pretty much led the charge and saved everyone. If it says on the news it was an earthquake, then it was a horrible ugly lie."

Elliot finally seemed to find his voice. "That's great, Socrates," he said quietly. "Listen, I've got some bad news…"

Socrates didn't even seem to register that his friend had spoken. "Yeah, that's great. Anywho, here's the lowdown – I was resting in a tree, planning to throw a water balloon at an old lady with a walker, when I got a phone call from the MTM telling me that there was a monster on the loose."

"Socrates, listen…"

"I immediately sprang into action, prepared to use all my wits and know-how, all set to do whatever it took to save everyone on the planet! I immediately devised a plan that I knew without a shadow of a doubt would succeed."

"Look, Socrates…"

"I told Calvin and Hobbes to provide a distraction so that the monster would not see us sneak up on it."

"Socrates…"

"I then told Andy and Sherman to activate a special program that I designed myself that would slow down the creature's mental facilities to make it docile long enough for my part of the plan."

"_Socrates_…"

"I then used the cardboard box to swoop in over the city and activate the Mega-Shrinker 5000, which Calvin had been struggling for years to make cordless for times like this, but then I made a suggestion that helped him, and he was so grateful he gave me a big ol' hug!"

"Okay, now I _know _you're making this up," Elliot snapped.

Socrates gasped in shock. "Me? Making this up? Elliot, I'm wounded!"

"Oh, please…"

"I'll have you know that I successfully shrank the creature down for the MTM to absorb it into his hypercube, and I was awarded the Medal of Honor by the mayor, and I was given all the ice cream in the world!"

"Socrates, shut up a minute!"

Socrates was startled out of his ramblings long enough to be silenced.

Elliot calmed down and continued. "Socrates, I have some bad news…"

"Are you dying?"

"… What? No!"

"Oh… Am _I _dying?"

"No!"

"Is _someone _dying?"

"No…"

"Then how bad can it be?! You're making this worse than it needs to be! It's all about perspective! Everything's fine! Whatever it is, we'll get through it, because we're a family… with money!"

Elliot blinked before deciding he would simply have to be blunt. "Socrates, we're moving."

Socrates seemed to have trouble thinking after that moment. His entire brain went momentarily on standby. There was a little sign on his brain that read, 'Gone fishing'. It took a few moments for him to get going again, and when he did, he realized that Elliot had started talking again without him.

"My dad got a new job California… He wants to take it. Mom agrees. They've already found us a nice condo… They're going to enroll me in a new school. They said we'll leave at the end of the month."

Socrates ran those details in front of his brain a couple more times, trying to figure everything out. It took him another three seconds before he finally found his response.

"… We're… _leaving_?" he asked in a small voice.

Elliot nodded. "We are. I'm sorry, Socrates."

Socrates stood there for another three seconds before he finally sat down next to his friend on the couch. He stared up into the blank big screen before him with deep appreciation for the lack of anything on it.

* * *

**Author's Note: **_Well! How about _that_ for a first chapter! And it only gets worse from here..._


	2. Invention Approved

After a long morning of saving the planet with gadgets and daring do, Sherman was looking forward to a day of saving the planet from the comfort and solitude of his own lab.

The lab was a rather large room underneath the house where he lived with Andy and his parents. It took up the entire basement, and it was filled with all sorts of different types of equipment to cover the different areas that Sherman preferred to work in. The side nearest the entrance was mostly one large bookcase with chairs and scattered papers. Along the far wall was a workbench where he kept his tools for construction. Further along was his chemistry area, which had shelves and cabinets filled with beakers and test tubes, not to mention a small refrigerator for specimens he wanted to examine later.

This led to the banks of computers that were constantly humming away and working even when he wasn't there, and in the center of the nearest wall was a giant monitor that he could use for all sorts of things, from scanning the entire planet to contacting the UN for whatever work he had been doing with them.

Also, tucked away in a corner was his cage with a little hamster wheel and water bottle. He _is _a hamster, after all.

On this particular day, he was just getting into his latest project. He had been working for some time to find some way of creating a formula that would produce the ultimate shampoo that would be able to automatically style, tease and weave hair at the user's behest. He had already gone through six different mixtures and six different haircuts, and he was all set for number seven when he heard a buzzer go off. He scurried over and pressed the button, activating the intercom.

"What is it now?" he grumbled.

"Mail call," Andy's voice replied.

Sherman pressed another button that would unlock the door before scurrying back to his chemicals.

The door swung open, and Andy came meandering down the spiral staircase and into the main part of the lab. He spotted Sherman on the workbench and approached him, carrying a small handful of envelopes.

"Still with the shampoo?" he asked, not bothering to look up as he sorted through them.

"I'm onto something. I just need to make the perm change into a crew cut, and I can market this to the military."

"Mmm-hmmm… Let's see… How many mailing lists are you on?"

"As many as Socrates tricked me into signing."

"Ugh… Women's magazine… Credit Card companies… Political Campaign begging for help… Ooh! Free dollar! Score!"

"Anything noteworthy?"

"Er… Oh, this is from the university."

Sherman sighed and took it. "They probably want me to teach physics again."

"Why'd you stop doing that, anyway? They paid you well enough."

"Have you ever tried to teach kids while being a talking hamster?"

"… Fair point."

Sherman ripped one of his claws through the envelope and opened it up, looking over the letter inside. His little hamster eyebrows rose up over his nose. "Well, it's not a form letter…"

"What's it say?"

Sherman's eyes scanned across the various sentences that had been lined up to form a message for him, and he couldn't believe what he was reading.

"… They like it," he said at last.

"They like what?" Andy asked, looking confused.

"They like my energy converting machine! They like it! They want to give it a budget! Whoopee!"

To Andy's surprise, his usually stuffy pet hamster leapt joyously from the desk and onto the back of an office chair that rolled around when he collided with it, and it rolled around on the floor, clattering away as he danced on the head of it.

"Wait…," Andy said at last. "What? _What_ machine? What's going on?!"

Sherman jumped from the swinging swivel chair onto Andy's head, tap dancing on top of it. He was boogying so much he almost didn't hear the question. "What? Oh! The university is interested in my energy converter! After months of hard work on it, they have rewarded me! Oh yeah! I rule! I'm da man! _Yeah_!"

He did a backflip that sent him flying back onto the workbench. He landed in a brief splits before he jumped back up again and resuming his jig.

Andy stared in bewilderment, briefly smoothing out his hair again. He didn't know what to say or do. He'd never seen his hamster act like such a spaz before. "So… this is good?"

"It's _spectacular_! I'm finally going to be able to market my own inventions! I have made a difference! Boo-yah!"

"… Wait, since when have you been making an energy converter?" he asked. "All I ever see you working on is stuff like yellow ketchup and helium preservers. When did _this _happen?!"

"It's been a side thing. Who would've thought it would take off?"

"Yeah, the yellow ketchup was the clear frontrunner."

Sherman glared at him before looking over the letter. "It says they're all ready to set things up! They'll have a manufacturing company constructed by the end of the month!"

"So they're actually going to build this thing?"

"Multiple things! These are going to go out all over the country!"

"… Don't you have to fill out a form or at least _sign _something?"

"Oh, I'll be heading down to the university to learn more about this. We'll discuss terms in a couple days."

"Okay… Then what happens?"

"Well, naturally, I'll be going to China to oversee the beginning of manufacturing for a few months…"

Andy's eyes widened. "Wait, _China_?! When did China come into this?!"

"Well, China is the manufacturing capital of the world! _Of course _we'll be manufacturing there!"

"But you… We… You're going to _China_?"

"I know! Isn't it wonderful! I'll be in charge! I'll oversee the production! I'll have underlings of my very own! I'll have the power to hire and fire!"

Andy blinked. "You're going to be Donald Trump in hamster form? I think _Bloom County _already covered that…"

"They're offering me my own base of operations!"

"Couldn't you just do all the supervising from here?"

"It'd be better if I were there in person. Then I'd be able to keep a closer eye on things and be ready to make changes at a moment's notice. Plus, they might let me use the plastic grinder. I've always wanted to use the plastic grinder…"

Andy didn't care much for just how excited Sherman was getting about all this. "… So when do we leave?" he asked at last.

Sherman whipped around. "'We'?! What makes you think there's a 'we'?"

"Well, I just assumed…"

"Well, you assumed incorrectly! You're not going!"

"Why not?!"

"An eight-year-old boy in a manufacturing building in downtown China? Just imagine how dangerous that would be!"

Andy raised an eyebrow. "A tiny little hamster _in charge _of a manufacturing building in downtown China with presumably loads of people expected to follow your instructions? If you thought teaching a class was difficult, imagine being in charge of entire _building_!"

Sherman stood and thought about that for a few moments. He was only three seconds into his fantasy when his eye began twitching.

"… Fine, you can come," he said at last, crossing his arms in defeat.

"Good boy," Andy replied, patting him on the head. "When do we leave?"

"Probably the end of the month."

"Okay. How long would we be there?"

"Well, I still have to set everything up with a few meetings, but if all goes well and nothing unforeseen comes up, it'd probably be about… six months, at least."

Andy's entire expression sagged heavily. "… Six months?" he repeated dismally.

Sherman smirked. "Not so smug _now_, are you?"

"But… six months?!"

"That's if everything goes _well_. If anything goes wrong, it could take much longer."

"But… but… how can we just leave for _six months_?!"

"Quite easily. The house will be waiting for us when we come back."

"But are we even going to _come back_? I mean, what if something happens where you have to stay even longer?"

"Then… I guess I'll stay even longer."

"So… Man, this is all happening too fast! This morning we were saving the planet, and now we're moving to the opposite side of it?!"

"Roughly."

"This is… _Man_…"

Sherman shrugged. "Life moves pretty fast. Things like this happen. You don't have to come if you don't want to."

Andy weighed his options in his head. It didn't seem right. Every instinct he had was telling him to stay here. The whole thing was way too terrifying for him to go along with it. He would have to uproot his entire life in less than a month, learn a new language, go to an actual school and leave his friends behind. Would his parents even be going? The whole thing was just too big for him.

He glanced at the small hamster awaiting his answer. The whole thing was too big for him as well. He'd never make it on his own with so many peoples' paychecks relying on him. It was simply too much for a tiny hamster. He'd be powerless, like a marble statue facing down a flock of pigeons.

"… I'll go," he said at last. "I'm not about to leave you alone in a situation like this for a minute."

Sherman rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he grumbled. "I'd better get on the phone with the university and set up a meeting. This is going to take some time to iron out. Enjoy your time here while you can."

The little hamster launched himself off of the bench and onto the swivel chair, and the momentum sent him rolling across the floor to the giant monitor. He jumped onto the control panel and proceeded dialing a number on the tiny keyboard.

A few seconds later, there was a high-pitched beeping noise, and then the giant monitor flickered, changing from the desktop to an online video phone, allowing Sherman to come face-to-face with an older man in a dusty green tweed jacket and a dark blue sweater vest. He was balding up top, but his seemed to have a horseshoe of hair going around his cranium. He put Andy in mind of senile old professor.

"Ahhh, Sherman," the old man said in a tired old voice. "I take it you have received our letter."

"I have, Professor Johnson," Sherman replied. "Thank you. It's quite an honor!"

"Yes, well, I have arranged a meeting with the board of trustees on Thursday afternoon to discuss the finer details, but I think we should be able to set up manufacturing in Southern China by the end of the month."

"I'm glad to hear it. I look forward to the start of production."

"As do we all, Sherman. Your machine shall do wonders for the human race as it reduces our reliance on oil. We look forward to your imminent success."

"Thank you, sir. As do I."

Andy watched all this, feeling strangely detached.

He regretted feeling that way the instant Professor Johnson's eyes flitted in his direction, and a wrinkly old smile slid across his face. "Ahhh, is that young Andrew?" he asked in an amused tone.

Sherman glanced over his shoulder. "Yep, that's Andy."

Johnson leaned forward. "Come a little closer, son."

Andy shuffled awkwardly. He didn't usually feel so uncomfortable around adults, but this whole situation was really strange to him. He shyly walked up to the monitor and looked up at it, hands in his pockets because he didn't know what else to do with them.

"I'm one thousand two hundred and forty-eight point seven miles away, my boy. I don't bite," Johnson said assuringly.

Andy nodded. "Sorry, sir… Er, professor… I just… This whole thing is happening so fast. My pet hamster is moving all the way to China…"

"Will you be joining him, Andrew?"

"Er… yes, sir, I will."

"Splendid! You'll be more than welcome, I assure you, my boy. While I don't know if a manufacturing plant is an ideal place for a small boy to have fun, I can assure you it will be a most fascinating experience."

"I'm sure watching a hamster be in command of an entire factory will be _plenty _fascinating," Andy replied automatically.

To his relief, Johnson started laughing. Sherman looked less than amused.

"Andrew, you have nothing to worry about," the old man chuckled as he caught his breath. "We'll see to it you are taught the Chinese language and go to the finest school we can give you."

"Thank you, sir."

"Hopefully, by the end of the sixth month, you'll be sorry to leave the country."

Andy swallowed. He wasn't sure about _anything _anymore.

* * *

Calvin was still working on his essay. He was doing his best to make the family camping trips into something interesting. So far, he'd been through five pieces of paper, and he was currently screwing up the sixth. He growled in frustration as he finished crumpling it up and throwing it on the floor.

He wasn't uplifted at all when the door opened and his father entered without knocking. He was carrying Hobbes in his hands.

"Calvin, you need to stop leaving Hobbes out in the middle of the floor. He was just lying next to the window for no good reason," he said sternly, setting down the stuffed tiger on the bed.

"It's not my fault," Calvin replied evenly. "He just likes the sunbeam. All cats like the sunbeam."

Dad massaged his temples in frustration, and he wasn't aided any when he noticed all the papers scattered and crumpled on the floor. "What's this mess?"

"I'm trying to write an essay for class, but I'm stuck. I can't figure out what to write."

"Well, what's the subject?"

"I have to tell about an interesting vacation I've had."

"Really? What's so hard about that?"

"I haven't had any."

"What? After all the wonderful camping trips we've gone on, you can't think of an interesting one?"

Calvin turned in his seat and prepared his inner-smart-aleck. "Well, _Dad_, let's think…," he said slowly. "How about the time it rained all week? How about the year you smashed your glasses and got all whiny? How about the time you and Mom got buried alive? How about the time a mountain lion attacked us? How about the time the canoe floated away? How about the time…?"

"Okay, enough," Dad snapped. "Come on, they can't have all been that bad!"

"Dad, face it, you're so determined to love nature that you ignore the fact that nature is cruel and unforgiving and doesn't give two cents whether we live or die! All that talk about how wonderful nature is, is just a bunch of modern guilt! You feel guilt on behalf of all of humanity because you're scared of how the planet is going to show retribution."

"Calvin, that's enough. I enjoy nature because nature is _natural_. It's how we were meant to live."

"Really? I thought the whole point of living was surviving long enough to die old, alone and miserable."

Dad growled under his breath as he attempted to control his anger. "Calvin, do your homework. And I want to read that essay before you turn it in."

"And if it doesn't conform to your ideals, you'll make me do it again?"

Dad responded by slamming the door and leaving.

Hobbes lay on the bed, looking rather put out. "You know, I was _enjoying _that sunbeam…"

"I can't believe Dad would do this! He's impugning on my right to free speech! I'm not about to let my parents force me to believe what they want me to believe! I have a mind of my own, darn it! I won't let him use his words to manipulate me into doing whatever he wants me to do!"

"What do you mean?" Hobbes asked.

"Well, you know how Dad is always getting on me to 'build character'? Have you ever noticed the pattern? Every time he wants me to do something, it automatically builds character. He wants me to shovel snow for him to walk through? Being cold builds character! He wants me to ride a bicycle like he does? Scraped knees build character! He wants me to grow up, have a menial job and live my life in quiet desperation like _he _does? He tells me growing up builds character! I'm beginning to think there's no such thing as character, and he's just trying to make me do what he wants me to do!"

Hobbes blinked. "Wow…," he murmured. "You know, now that you've said that out loud, I can't help but notice it with great clarity."

Calvin, however, seemed genuinely surprised by what he had just said. "Wow. That was really good. I'm writing that down."

As he proceeded to scribble away on his piece of paper, Hobbes came over to look at it. "You're going to use that in your essay?"

"Why not? I think it's really interesting."

"Well, what's your dad going to think when he reads it?"

"He's not _going _to read it. I'll write a nice little essay for him to read that talks about how stupidly wonderful camping trips are and how it has enriched my very existence."

"Wow, that's really clever. A fake-out essay – what a novel concept!"

"_I_ thought so."

"But doesn't this mean you'll end up doing twice as much work?"

"It is only work if someone _makes _you do it. Man, I should've thought of this _years _ago!"

Hobbes thought about that for a moment. "… I thought you were only in first grade."

"I am."

"So… 'years ago'…?"

Calvin stopped writing for a moment as he mulled that one over. That _was _a bit odd.

After a brief pause, however, he shrugged it off. "Whatever. I think I'm on a roll now. I might be able to finish this within the hour!"

* * *

Mom was walking through the living room after doing a bit of cleaning, and she was surprised to see Dad sitting in his easy chair, reading a book with his nose buried deep inside it.

"Uh-oh," she remarked. "He's got the book out. That means you're angry."

Dad grumbled and lowered the book so as to look less conspicuous.

"Did you and Calvin have another argument?" Mom asked.

"Yes, we did," Dad replied shortly.

"What about this time?"

"He has to write an essay about an interesting vacation he's had, but he refuses to because he claims he's hasn't had one."

Mom sat down on the chair arm and put a comforting arm around him. "Well, to be fair, we haven't really been anywhere nice."

"Oh, now don't _you _start too!"

"Dear, for heaven's sake," Mom sighed. "Every time we take Calvin camping, he ends up miserable. Need I bring up what happened on our _last _camping trip?"

Dad squirmed, remembering the time their trip to the Oregon Coast had supposedly gotten Calvin lost at sea. It "turned out" that Calvin had actually been kidnapped by some crazed maniac with what experts were reporting was a robot of some sort, but it didn't change the fact that they'd spent two days worrying like mad until he was returned safely.

"Yes, I'll admit that was horrible," he said at last, "but we still had plenty of _other _trips that we enjoyed, didn't we?"

"No, we haven't. Face it, dear – you're the only one who enjoys these camping trips."

Dad crossed his arms and pouted. "That's still one darn sarcastic kid we're raising."

Mom kissed the top of his head and walked back into the kitchen to get started on planning dinner.

Dad reached over and grabbed his newspaper. He was always going to go kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century. He didn't care that print was a dying medium. He was determined not to buy a tablet or an iPad or whatever else he was being convinced he needed to keep up with the times. He was determined to freeze himself in the era of his youth, when the world was supposedly a better place. His wife and son were constantly pointing out that the only reason the world was a better place to him when he was a kid was simply because _he was a kid at the time_. Of course, Dad was unwavering in his belief that he knew all the answers, and thus, the family TV was a small box with rabbit ears, the phone had a cord, his wife did the dishes by hand and the computer only had internet access because the patent firm he worked at forced him to.

He skimmed through a few ads, quietly going over everything that had come up and making sure Calvin hadn't placed any ads that might be about selling his stuffed tiger to a zoo or selling the car for five dollars so he could go to the arcade. He was still smarting over the ad that had been asking for a new father.

At one point, though, he happened upon an advert that took up one quarter of the page. He saw that it was for some sort of camp located downtown that said they were good with difficult children. The more he read, the more he noticed that the councilors believed in making children obedient and docile, because, after all, as it said in the ad: "Only through obedience and respect for authority will children ever become polite, well-mannered members of society."

It was as if it had been written specifically for people like Calvin's father. He took the newspaper and headed into the kitchen with it.

Mom was getting out the pots and pans when he entered the room.

"Dear, look at this," he said, trying not to sound too eager.

"What is it?"

"It's an ad in the paper for some kind of camp. Do you think Calvin would like it?"

"Calvin's not one for group activities. That's why we had to take him out of the Boy Scouts, remember? He kept getting lost on purpose."

"Well, this is different. It's a nice little place downtown, and it starts up this March, during the week of his spring break. I think a week away would do him good."

"Let me see it."

Dad handed her the newspaper, open to the correct page, and she skimmed over the ad before rolling her eyes and handing it back to him. "No," she said shortly.

"What's wrong with it? I think it sounds very nice!"

"You like the idea of Calvin being your perfect son who does everything you tell him to without fuss."

"Well…"

"Dear, do you want a son or a wind-up toy?"

"I believe I made it clear I wanted a dog…"

"He'll never go for it. He's got too much going on around here. He's got friends here."

Dad looked disappointed, but he nodded anyway. "Yeah, I guess so…," he sighed, making a note to cut out the ad for later use.

* * *

Calvin was still working away on the essay he had started writing. "This is going great!" he said to Hobbes. "It's all coming so naturally! I never realized how much fun essays are when you know what you're talking about!"

"What have you written so far?" Hobbes asked.

"Well, I've written about how Dad is always talking about building character, and I've given examples of all the times he's used it to make me do chores for him, and now I'm talking about how he uses it to rationalize our camping trips. He always tries to force us to go fishing and swimming in icy water just to satisfy his own need to be miserable, and now I'm writing about his weird desire to be awake before everyone else and accomplish as many things as possible before the rest of us do just so he can brag about it!"

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again," Hobbes sighed. "Your dad's a fanatic."

"Just wait until I get to the part where he forced me to gut a fish."

Calvin continued writing for a few more minutes when he noticed a buzzing noise coming from somewhere on his desk. He saw that it was the MTM vibrating.

"You've got a call coming in," the CD player announced.

"Can it wait? I'm busy."

"It's from Andy. He says that it's urgent."

Calvin sighed and pressed the button that made the MTM's CD flap pop open, allowing him to speak into the grille that was hooked up inside.

"Andy, make it quick. I'm busy working on my essay, and for once, I'm making progress."

"Oh, glad to hear it," Andy replied, but there was absolutely no enthusiasm in his tone.

"… So what's up?" Calvin asked impatiently.

Andy cleared his throat awkwardly. "Calvin, I've got some bad news…"

"… What sort of bad news?"

"Sherman's invention has been approved by the university. They're going to give him funding to mass produce it."

Hobbes was still in the room, and he overheard that part. "Oh, great. Now we really _are_ all doomed…"

Calvin ignored him. "But isn't that _good _news?"

"It is for him…"

"… and for you?"

"… He has to go to China to oversee production for the first six months."

"… Oh… _Oh_."

"_Yeah_…"

Calvin and Hobbes exchanged glances.

"So…," Hobbes said at last. "What does this mean for _you_?"

"… I can't let him just go off to China by himself, guys. He's a small hamster, and he can't really run an entire factory by himself. It would take too much of a strain on him."

"So you're going with him," Calvin finished.

"… Yeah, I am. I have to. I just can't let him go alone."

Calvin nodded, still trying to take all this in. Everything was happening too fast. Suddenly, his essay was a lot less interesting. His only human friend was leaving. His only friend who shared his knack for inventing was leaving. He sat back in the chair, stunned by recent developments and not sure how to overcome them.

Andy's voice crackled though the MTM. "… Calvin? You still there?"

Hobbes managed to overcome his own shock and speak into the grille. "Er, when are you guys leaving, Andy?"

"End of the month. Then it's six months 'til we come back."

"Sheesh. Six months…"

"I know."

Calvin shook his head. "… It's not supposed to be this way," he said quietly.

There was a long silence as they all tried to figure this out.

"Well, we can still visit," Hobbes said at last. "I mean, heck – if we could travel to Dubai, I think we could make it to China for a few hours."

"… True," Calvin said at last. "But it… I mean, we… Dang, I hate this so much."

"I know," Andy replied sadly. "Listen, I have to go help Sherman get ready for a meeting on Thursday, but tomorrow, we can meet up and discuss it."

"… Yeah, okay," Calvin said at last. "We'll see you tomorrow, Andy."

"Bye."

Calvin slowly lowered the MTM's lid before slumping back again in his chair, staring straight ahead in a daze.

Hobbes put a comforting paw on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"… Andy and Sherman are moving away."

"Just for six months."

"But they're not going to be just down the street anymore. They won't be going on adventures with us anymore. They'll be too busy doing boring work in China. Sherman won't be talking me into helping him with his experiments. Andy won't be there to provide wry commentary on the happenings around us."

Hobbes nodded at the validity of these statements. "Well, it won't be forever. They'll come back."

"… Six _months_, Hobbes!"

"I know. I know…"

"And you know what that means? We're stuck here with just _Socrates_ for company!"

Hobbes blinked. "Hmmm… Yes, that _does _sound unpleasant."

At that moment, the MTM vibrated again. "Sorry to interrupt the sadness, chaps," he announced, "but we've got ourselves another call coming from Socrates, and he's saying it's urgent."

Calvin and Hobbes felt their hearts simultaneously plummet into their stomachs.

"… Don't tell me," Hobbes said quietly.

"It doesn't sound good," MTM replied awkwardly.

Calvin rubbed his eyes. "Man, today was going so nicely, too…"


	3. Separation of the Gang

The next day was a bit too tolling for Calvin and Hobbes.

After the news that their three friends were all suddenly leaving had left them both a little confused and frightened. They had had their own social circle. They had a clique. They had a band. They had a ragtag band of misfits to be a part of. They had a group they could belong to, and they were now left behind as they all suddenly carried on without them.

Andy, Sherman and Socrates all came over the next day to hang out and discuss plans. They gathered in the tree house to plan out what they were going to do for the remaining weeks they had left.

They didn't get off to a productive start as they all basically sat in a circle in awkward silence.

Finally, the MTM broke the ice by electronically clearing his throat. "Well… it would seem as though we have approximately fifteen days, twelve hours, fourteen minutes and forty-nine seconds before everyone goes their separate ways. Perhaps we could spend that time more fruitfully instead of sitting around in a wooden crate in a tree."

Andy nodded faintly. "Yeah… we should. The question is – what do we do?"

"Seems a bit difficult to believe we would have little to do," Sherman remarked.

"It's Sunday," Hobbes replied. "I think all the bad guys take the day off."

"Bad guys and the post office," Socrates added. "They just go hand in hand, don't they?"

"Come on, guys," Calvin grumbled. "We have a whole day to spend, and then I have school every day for the next five days, but we'll have the afternoons!"

"Homework permitting," Sherman reminded him.

"And then, I have to help Elliot and his family to make the move," Socrates added. "I have to help pack boxes, and with a mansion that size, they've gone to the trouble of filling it with a lot of expensive junk."

"And then there's all the meetings and preparations we have to make before we go to China," Andy put in.

"Then we'll just have to make the most of the time we have left," Hobbes suggested.

"Nah, I'm planning to spend the rest of the day complaining," Calvin sighed. "We'll have to put off the having fun part 'til later."

"Oh, come on! Let's do something fun! Let's do something interesting! Let's… Let's… Let's go looking for weird bugs and climb trees and look for buried treasure! Let's do _something_!"

Everyone stared at him for a long moment.

Finally, Sherman spoke up. "… You know… there _is _a bug that's supposedly native around here that we could look for…"

"Is it weird?" Calvin asked hopefully.

"Very weird. It's called the Jub-Jub Vandersnatch."

"What does it look like?" asked Hobbes.

"It's small, yellow and segmented with huge pincers on one end and a venom sac on the other."

"Ewwww!" Calvin exclaimed. "That's _disgusting_! Let's go find it!"

Calvin immediately started climbing down the rope ladder, followed quickly by Hobbes, Andy and Socrates.

"Where do we start looking?" asked Hobbes. "There're a zillion places that a bug like that could hide!"

"Well, the Jub-Jub typically lives in wet and moist areas," Sherman said.

"Do you think we could find any in the swamp?" Calvin asked eagerly.

"It's a very strong possibility."

"Then let's go!"

They ran as fast as they could into the woods, hoping they would come across this bug.

* * *

After several hours of romping in the woods, the gang had pretty much forgotten about the Jub-Jub Vandersnatch. They had started digging around the swamp, under rocks and in the tall grass, but Socrates had thrown a mud ball at Calvin, who had immediately retaliated, and soon they had all been throwing mud at each other, followed by them taking turns riding giant leaves down a small waterfall that led into an even bigger mud hole.

They'd climbed up and down trees until they got too tired to keep going, so they ended up collapsing in the grass and staring up at the clouds for another hour until they got their strength back. Soon, they craved some sort of action, so they started throwing rocks in the pond until Socrates tricked Calvin into trying to throw a rock from a ledge, which had ended up collapsing beneath him and sending him down into the murky water. This had resulted in yet another fight where the boy chased the red-tailed tiger with a heavy stick while the others just laughed.

That ended up turning into a challenge to see who could run the fastest, and with Sherman keeping time, they had a humans versus felines contest, with Calvin and Andy running all the way across the woods and back again, letting Hobbes and Socrates go next, trying to see who could cover the distance in the least amount of time.

At last, the sun was beginning to set, and the day came to an end.

Calvin's mom was standing at the backdoor, checking her watch and tapping her foot impatiently.

At long last, she saw the group come out of the woods. She stared in stunned silence at the two boys covered in mud, carrying two muddy stuffed tigers in their arms, and a muddy hamster was perched on Andy's shoulder.

"What on Earth have you _done _to yourselves?!" she shrieked in horror.

"We were just playing in the woods, Mom," Calvin replied as if it were no big deal.

"Calvin, get upstairs and take a bath! And don't you _dare _track mud across my floor!"

"_Your_ floor?"

"Andy, get home! You need a bath, too!"

"Yes, ma'am," Andy replied politely. "See you later, Calvin."

"Bye, Andy."

Andy walked away with Socrates at his side and Sherman on his shoulder.

"Just for the record," he whispered to his hamster, "you made the Jub-Jub Vandersnatch up, didn't you?"

"A-yup," Sherman replied with a wry grin.

"I can't believe I fell for that," Socrates muttered. "It sounded more like a bird than a bug."

* * *

Following his bath, Calvin retrieved Hobbes from the washing machine and brought him into the bedroom, where they climbed into their bed and got comfortable.

"What a day," Hobbes said with a tired yawn. "I'm pooped."

"Ditto," Calvin agreed. "It stinks that I have to go to school tomorrow. I'm wasting valuable time that could be better spent playing with our friends."

"Well, from the sound of it, they're going to be just as busy as you. They'll have no time for Calvinball or zany experiments or madcap adventures."

"Man… Everything's changing on us, and I can't stand it! It's like we're the playthings of some sick cosmic manipulator who enjoys toying with innocent beings."

Hobbes sighed and leaned back in the bed. "Well, we'll just have to make the best of all the time we have left."

"Yeah… _Man_, I wish everything would just stay the same."

Hobbes reached out and put a comforting paw on his friend's shoulder. "Well, I'm not going anywhere. You'll always have _me_."

Calvin turned to look at him, smiling slightly. "Yeah… Thanks, ol' buddy." They hugged each other tightly, taking comfort in their shared moment before it would be lights out and back to life as they knew it.

A few moments later, Dad entered the room, all set to put his son to bed. "Alright, kiddo – time for bed!" he announced.

Calvin started to get comfortable. "Check for monsters?"

"Calvin…"

"Please, Dad? I just want to be sure."

Dad sighed and got down on his hands and knees, pretending to check. "Nope, it's clear."

"Good. The dimensional rift must've resealed itself shut. Hopefully, there won't be any more crossing the planes between realities."

Dad raised his head up over the bed to stare at his son. "… What?"

Calvin sighed. "Never mind. Just read us our bedtime story."

Dad shook his head and went over to the bookcase. "Please don't say it…," he moaned.

"Hamster Huey and the Gooey Kablooie!"

"No! Come on! No more Hamster Huey! No more squeaky voices! No more squishy sound effects! No more Happy Hamster Hop! I can't stand it anymore!"

"Dad, _please_?"

"Calvin, _no_! It's the same story it was last night, and the night before that, and the night before _that_, _and the night before _that! I want something _different_ tonight!"

"Dad, come on! Andy, Sherman and Socrates are all moving away! I'm going back to school tomorrow! I can't hang out with them anymore! I just want _something _to stay the same! I need something familiar! I want something wonderfully routine!"

"Calvin, don't talk like that. Accepting change is just something that builds character!"

"All the more reason to hate it! I'm losing everything I ever cared about! All I have left are Hobbes and my favorite book! _Please_ read it?"

Dad stared at him for a long throbbing moment, wishing so badly right now he could just set that book on fire and throw it out the window for some wild animal to devour. Still, he was a parent, and putting up with his child's ridiculous whims was a part of parenting.

He picked up the book and started reading it.

* * *

Mom was downstairs, reading a book before getting ready for bed herself, when Dad slouched downstairs, grumbling to under his breath. "So how was Hamster Huey tonight?" she asked without looking up.

"Annoying, ridiculous and high-pitched," he replied flatly, thudding down in his chair opposite her.

"Well, it's his favorite story, and you're the one who introduced it to him, by the way."

"I know, and I've been kicking myself for it ever since. He can't handle variety. He insists on having everything stay exactly the same."

"His friends are moving away, dear. He's upset."

"I know, but that's no reason to freeze everything in one place. We have to adapt to new situations."

Mom laughed shortly at that. "Well, _hello_, Mr. Pot!"

Dad stared. "… What?"

"Dear, you're exactly the same way when it comes with technology!"

"Those are two different things!"

"You wish you could live in a pre-electricity time period. You hate driving a car, so you insist on riding a bicycle, even when there's two inches of ice and snow on the ground. You hate telephones, so you insist on mailing everything, even as the postal service slowly deteriorates."

"I think I get the point, but it's totally different."

"How's that?"

"… I'm right, and everyone else is wrong."

Mom shook her head disparagingly.

* * *

The next few days went more or less uneventfully. There were no major alien invasions, no threats to the planet or reality in general, and there were no real opportunities for fun, either.

One day, Andy was only able to hang out for a few hours while Sherman was in a meeting, but he had to go back to help him disassemble the gigantic particle accelerator and organizing all the wires and computer boards into their appropriate boxes. Socrates was unable to come because he was helping Socrates disassemble the pool table and pack it away.

Calvin was unable to assist with any of this packing because he was stuck with homework every night. For some reason, Miss Wormwood was constantly assigning some sort of mundane task that was designed to keep the kids home every night instead of out living their lives. He was stuck doing math problems, looking up historic dates, determining the various lengths and measurements of objects with a paper cut-out ruler, and he was diagramming sentences that felt very awkward to say out loud.

Hobbes felt bad for his friend being unable to join in on packing duty, so he decided to stay home with him and help with his homework, helping him to get it done faster, but it was never fast enough. The sun was always down before they were finished, and they weren't allowed out after dark.

MTM tried to ease the transition by using his speakerphone to be used between Calvin and the gang. They managed a few conversations where the others would try to assist Calvin with his homework, but Calvin's mom would always hear the conversations and come into the room, trying to figure out where the conversations were coming from, and believing the MTM would get confiscated, Calvin and Hobbes would more often than not have to disconnect the call.

It went on like this for the rest of the month.

Andy and Sherman were constantly in meetings and packing lab equipment, while Socrates was constantly being roped into helping Elliot's family prepare for the big move. Calvin's homework was constantly keeping him too busy to do anything else. Hobbes was always trying to help him one way or another, but they never seemed to finish on time.

It's amazing how fast time can fly when you're trying to have fun but never seem to have the time to have any. The days flew by so quickly, none of them seemed able to grab hold of one of them. They were just left to watch as the metaphysical sands in the hour glass trickled away, leaving them lost and confused.

Finally, it was too late.

* * *

There were several moving vans standing in front of the mansion on that depressing Saturday when it was time for the rich family to move away.

Elliot's parents had been kind enough to arrange it so that they would leave on a day in the afternoon so Elliot would have time to say goodbye to all his friends. He had gone off and done so with all the friends he had made at his school. When the day was over, he came back to say goodbye to the gang alongside Socrates.

Calvin, Hobbes, Andy and Sherman had all gathered around the front steps of the mansion, which now had a gigantic 'For Sale' sign hanging in the front yard. They watched with heavy hearts as Socrates carried the last of his boxes down and casually tossed it onboard the final moving van, after which the door unceremoniously came crashing down.

"Well! That's the last of my rubber chicken collection! Looks like we're done here!" he announced.

Everyone stared at him.

"… Yeah," Hobbes said at last. "We're done here…"

Elliot cleared his throat as he turned to the rest of the gang. "Well, thanks for coming," he said. "Sorry we have to keep this brief, but my parents say we have to catch the plane within the next two hours, and with all the extra security we have to go through these days, we need time for the cavity searches to play out."

"You don't think they'll confiscate my energy shake, do you?" Socrates asked. "I'm going to need all the energy I can get to sit through a three-hour flight."

"Socrates, you heard what my dad said – you have to stay in the overhead compartment because he couldn't shell out for a fourth seat."

"Well, _that's _just offensive!"

"I know, I know…"

Calvin finally cleared his throat. "Well, Elliot, it's been a pleasure, or as much of a pleasure as it could be, seeing as how you've done a credible job of making yourself scarce."

Elliot shook his hand. "Yeah, it's been great, Calvin. Thanks for looking after Socrates."

Socrates gasped. "'Looking _after _me'?! I'm insulted!"

"It's been an interesting adventure, being friends with you," Hobbes said, shaking the other tiger's paw. "Until you came along, I didn't have any other feline friends. It's hard to meet any when your species is endangered."

"True," Socrates sighed. "Never mind. There's bound to be some other tiger in this neighborhood."

"Huh boy," Sherman groaned.

"Good bye, Socrates," Andy said. "Hope you can keep those suntanned folks in Los Angeles on their toes."

"Ohhh, Andy boy, you _know _it! We're talking full on Hollywood level pranks now! Replacing all the digital cameras with _film _cameras! They'll think they've stepped back in time! I just need to find a way to reanimate Orson Welles, and I'll be good to go!"

Everyone stared at him for a long moment.

"I'm just going to tell myself you're kidding around," Hobbes said at last.

"Probably for the best," Socrates replied cheerily.

They were interrupted by the sound of a car honking. Elliot's parents were calling him over.

"Well, I guess this it," Elliot said at last. "Hope to hear from you guys again."

Socrates seemed momentarily lost for words as he looked his friends in the eye. At last, he settled for a simple salute, which the others returned wearily. "See ya," he said quietly. "Keep in touch. Facebook, Twitter, Bebo, Myspace, Instagram, telegrams, holograms…"

"Come on, Socrates, let's go," Elliot sighed, pulling him towards the car.

The others waved with a degree of sadness as Socrates and Elliot climbed into the backseat of the fancy sports car. They observed with a slight twinge in their hearts as it started up and drove away, pulling around the cul-de-sac and heading around towards the street, leading a convoy of moving vans that all struggled under the weight of their loads. The cavalcade disappeared down the road, blending in with the traffic it faced and headed into city, off on some great big adventure, leaving everything else behind in the dust.

The quartet stood there for a long dull moment.

"Do you think we'll actually _miss _him?" Andy asked at last.

They all thought long and hard about that one.

"… Time will tell," Calvin said at last.

With that, they all nodded and proceeded to walk away down the sidewalk.

However, just as Calvin set food on one cement section, he found his foot going downwards about half an inch as he triggered some sort of mechanism under the sidewalk. Almost instantly, he found himself being catapulted through the air, flipping end over end as he landed in a nearby tree, where everyone heard the sickening splat that accompanied his landing. Five large drops of mayonnaise dropped to the ground before an entire kiddie pool filled with the goopy white condiment splattered loudly as it landed, carrying Calvin in it.

The others could only stare in stunned bemusement. They weren't even really all that shocked. The only surprise was that they hadn't really considered that Socrates might have left something in waiting for the boy.

There was a long stony silence as they all considered what had just happened.

"Does anyone else hear _laughing_?" Andy asked.

They all looked around, but they saw no one. All they knew was that it sounded _very _familiar.

Using his acute sense of hearing, Hobbes followed the sound to the tree, and looking up amongst the trees, he found and pulled down the source of the laughter – a small box with a speaker on it.

"Is this what I think it is?" he asked.

"It's a laughing box," Sherman said flatly.

It was. It was a laughing box with a repeating recording of Socrates laughing.

"Nice to know he'll always be with us, one way or another," Andy sighed.

Calvin growled as he proceeded to clean himself off. "Time has told me we _won't _miss him all that much," he grumbled, trying to get as much of the mayo out of his chair as he could.

* * *

A few days later, Calvin and Hobbes found themselves staring up at yet another moving van, although this time, there was no 'For Sale' sign in the yard. The house was not being sold because Andy's parents were going to be staying home while their son travelled to China.

"Your parents are seriously okay with you doing this?" Calvin had asked.

"They say the trip will do me good," Andy had replied. "The professor guy from the university said I would be looked after and would always have a place to stay and food to eat. I might as well go."

So here they were, watching as Andy carried the last of his things into the moving van, shutting it as he finished. He sat in the grass of the yard with Hobbes, bored as heck, wishing that he was allowed to move a few things, but Sherman apparently didn't trust either of them with his most delicate equipment.

Andy sighed to himself as he finished his loading, and he turned to face Calvin and Hobbes, both watching him apprehensively. He dusted his hands and headed in their direction, prompting them to stand up.

"Well…," he said slowly. "I guess this is it."

"Yeah…," Calvin replied, feeling a sort of emptiness growing inside him, as if it were hollowing out his chest.

"It's going to be a long six months," Hobbes sighed. "We're gonna miss you, Andy."

"I'll miss you guys, too," Andy replied, his voice wavering ever so slightly. "It's been a great time, and I hope we can pick up where we left off when we get back."

"Yeah… I'm sure it'll be good. We'll be the same age, in the same time, and we'll never grow old, and we'll never die…"

"Calvin, stop it. We're too young to get that."

"Sorry. It seemed appropriate."

"Where's Sherman?" Hobbes asked.

"He's still overseeing the loading of his combustible kumquats."

"… What?"

"I think it's one of his little pet projects."

At that moment, the door swung open, and they saw two moving guys carrying a box as carefully as they could, and Sherman was sitting on top of one of the guy's caps.

"All right, we're outside now! Easy does it! Don't you dare drop it! Imagine if the entire neighborhood got blown up due to a kumquat! The embarrassment of it all! I want this treated with the utmost care!"

The funny thing was that neither of the moving men seemed to notice him at all. They were just carrying on, going as gently as they could with the box that was a labeled: "HIGH EXPLOSIVES! HANDLE WITH CARE!"

"We're going to be seeing China on the news a lot more often," Hobbes sighed.

A few minutes later, the box was loaded up in a special container that wouldn't rattle around in the back of the truck. While the men were locking up the truck, Sherman scrambled down the man's uniform and made his way over to the others, jumping into Andy's waiting hand.

"Well!" he announced enthusiastically. "That's the last of it! We're all set!"

"Great," Andy said quietly. "We'd better say our goodbyes, Shermie."

Sherman nodded and allowed himself to be passed over to Calvin, who took him in his hand.

"Well, Calvin, this has been a most fascinating companionship," he said smartly. "I will miss our scientific experiments together, and I hope you continue to explore the possibilities of your abilities to create so that you might join me in business one day."

"Yeah, we'll see. First, I think I'd better get through grade school."

"Yes, of course. Finish what you start. That's always an admirable trait."

Calvin smiled. "Good luck, Sherman."

Sherman nodded and allowed himself to be handed off to Hobbes, who looked rather awkward by the fact he was holding the hamster he hated in his paw and wasn't about to eat him.

The two of them looked at each other.

"Well… Goodbye, Hobbes."

"… Yeah, see you later, Vermin."

"… Try not to rip _too _many small helpless animals to shreds, will you?"

"Try not to waste _too _much money on blowing up innocent civilians, okay?"

Calvin and Andy rolled their eyes. This was the most civil the two had been to each other in the entire time they'd known each other.

Hobbes handed Sherman back to Andy, and they all looked in the direction of a snazzy black car that was waiting on the curb. The two men in suits standing by the open door in the back were waiting, and one was tapping his wristwatch in their direction.

"Time to hie me hence," Sherman said quietly.

"Ditto," Andy agreed sadly. "See you in six months, guys."

"So long, Andy," said Hobbes.

"Tootle-oo, Sherman," said Calvin.

They waved one last time before turning towards the car. The two men in suits nodded in their direction as they climbed into the backseat with the door being shut behind them. The two men then got into the front seats, and a moment later, the car started up and proceeded to drive away.

Calvin and Hobbes watched with heavy hearts as the car and the moving van disappeared into the distance down the street before being absorbed into the city, lost from their vision.

For a long time, the two friends remained silent, neither certain what to say. All they knew was that their lives had just become a lot emptier. No more insane pranking tiger, no more conceited genius hamster, and no more sarcastic nerdy boy. They were on their own now.

"So…," Hobbes sighed. "Shall we go see what's on TV?"

"… Yeah," Calvin replied dejectedly. "Let's go home."

With nothing more to say, the two friends walked in the direction of their house, four doors down and across the street.


	4. The Falling of the Spirit

Sitting around used to be something that Calvin reveled in doing. He had at one point taken great pride in letting his brain turn to mush through television or any other form of non-intellectual activity, such as looking in the creek for non-existent creatures or digging around the backyard for fictitious buried treasure. He was always determined to make sure his mind was lax and running on empty.

Nowadays, Calvin had to be sharp. He had to stay alert and plan things out in advance because he suddenly had real enemies. He was constantly making sure that he didn't get caught unawares because he knew if Dr Brainstorm or Rupert and Earl ever got a hold of him, there was an actual chance they would beat him, and they would actually manage to take over the world. He wasn't about to let that happen on his watch.

Having a gang of friends to keep him on his toes had always been an advantage to him. He would never admit it out loud, but knowing he had his own little team to back him up in times of crisis had made things much easier for him. Now it was down to just him and Hobbes, and that probably meant they had lost whatever safety in numbers they had before. Technically, he still had the MTM and his gadgets to help, but there was just something satisfying about defeating an enemy with his wits.

One Saturday after all their friends had left, Calvin clambered out of bed around nine in the morning. He wasn't interested in cartoons at the moment. Summer was coming yet again, and he was ready for some sort of outdoors activity. Granted, Calvinball had become a group sport, but he remembered a time when it had been one on one, so he was almost certain that he and Hobbes could get back into the swing of things.

After he got dressed, he and Hobbes made their way downstairs where they found Calvin's dad coming back in from apparently mowing the lawn. He was dusting his hands off as he casually glanced up at the stairs and saw his son coming downstairs with his stuffed tiger in his arms.

"Well! Look who's finally up and about!" he said loudly and a little _too _obnoxiously. "I've been up since six! I had breakfast, had a bike ride, and I just finished mowing the lawn, and I've _still _got the rest of the day to go!"

Calvin didn't even waste time blinking. He just walked past his father without so much as a glance and headed for the kitchen. He saw his mother sitting at the table, reading a magazine and sipping some tea.

"How long does a mid-life crisis last, Mom?" he asked as he placed Hobbes in a chair before seating himself next to her.

"I don't think it's a mid-life crisis, dear," Mom replied without needing to look up from her article on potted plants. "He's always gotten this adrenaline rush from getting up before everyone else."

Calvin sighed as he reached over to his box of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs and poured them into the bowl. He absently poured the contents into the bowl, and then he fetched the milk from the fridge.

"So, what are you going to do today, Calvin?" Mom asked.

"Hobbes and I were considering sitting in the tree house and staring helplessly off into space," Calvin replied as he poured the milk onto his cereal.

"It's Saturday. I know you're upset because your friends have all moved away, but you'll be able to make _new _friends when you're ready."

"Mom, you don't understand. It's so hard to find human kids who understand me and are interested in what I like doing. I'm not good at school, I'm terrible at organized sports, and I don't like the human race in general."

"Dear, I know you've had it rough, but one day, everything will start to get better. Growing up isn't that bad, you know. Yes, lot's of things change, but sometimes it's for the better. One day, you'll move on to second grade and then third grade, and before you know it, you'll be an adult with a driver's license and a job and money, and then you'll be able to do anything you like."

Calvin ate a spoonful of cereal in thought. "… It won't be as much fun without my friends."

Mom patted his shoulder. "I know, sweetie. But life marches forward, whether we like it or not. Still, spring break is coming up. Maybe we'll do something special this year."

At that moment, Dad came into the room, and he saw Calvin's cereal. "Oh joy! The real American breakfast – clumps of starch dipped in sugar and passed off as food! I can only imagine what that's doing to your arteries."

Calvin glared at him. "No, Dad, tell me how you _really _feel."

"If you ask me, it's time you started eating something healthier. If you want, I could make you some runny oatmeal real quick. I just need to boil some water…"

Calvin massaged his temples. "Mom…"

"Dear, let him eat. He's having a hard time lately."

"I know just the thing for that. Why don't you and I go out and clean the gutters? A bit of hard work might be just what you need!"

"It's my day off!" Calvin complained.

"Just because it's your day off doesn't mean you should be lazy. Come on! Finish your breakfast and I'll get the ladder out! After that, we can start organizing the tool shed!"

As he walked away, Calvin stared at his mother in horror.

"Don't worry, dear," Mom sighed. "Once he gets started, he'll forget he asked you so he can keep all the 'fun' to himself."

"Thanks, Mom. Hobbes and me are going to go hide in the treehouse."

Finishing his cereal, Calvin put the bowl in the sink and hurried outside with Hobbes.

Mom shook her head and resumed reading her article.

From somewhere outside, she heard her husband shouting, "Dear? Have you seen my super-thick water resistant gloves?"

Massaging her temples, Mom simply got up and went into the next room where she could simply claim not to have heard him.

* * *

Calvin and Hobbes sat in the tree house for an entire hour, waiting for Dad to finish with the gutters, knowing that he would finish behind schedule and do a crummy job, only to proceed to brag about how efficient he was and how much character he had built. Eventually, after heaving out handful after handful of dead leaves and twigs and muck, he finished with a huge smile as he put the ladder away and headed back into the house.

They remained in the tree house for another thirty minutes, not really conversing. They just sat there, at first struggling to keep any sort of conversation going, but once they realized they were mainly talking about the weather – like a couple of _old people_ – they eventually faded into silence, neither certain just what they were supposed to do now.

Calvin let his eyes drift to the house two doors down, noticing that Susie Derkins was sitting in her backyard, playing with her dolls, all by herself. He toyed with the idea of going over and asking if she would be interested in saving the planet sometime during the week, but then he realized that sounded too much he was asking her out on a date, and he decided that was too ridiculous, especially as he was only six.

Hobbes glanced in the direction of some squirrels that were scampering around the yard, digging around the muck from the gutters that now littered the backyard. He briefly toyed with the idea of chasing them around for a bit, but his heart just wasn't in it. He just sat there in his corner of the tree house, wondering if he should start a new strand of conversation, but he couldn't think of anything substantial off the top of his head.

It's very difficult to think of anything decent to say when you're under pressure. Somehow the pressure of saying something to alleviate the mood was crushing their brains, causing a disadvantage in that department. They sat there, staring off into space, wondering what there could be to say to make this moment any less unpleasant, but they couldn't think of anything. The strain of this effort to say something was becoming greater and harder to deal with. They just sat there, staring and thinking and staring and thinking, unable to bring themselves out of their funk and into the world of pleasantries and small talk and faking interest in the other's activities.

Finally, they just gave up and leaned back in the tree house, letting themselves drift off to sleep. Somehow, no matter what happened to them, there was no problem so great that a nap couldn't help it – or at least help them postpone the problem until later.

* * *

Eventually, Dad noticed that Calvin had disappeared, and he was a bit disappointed to find that his son was napping in the tree house all day.

"He's been up there sleeping for an hour!" he complained. "Why are we letting him do that when there's so much to be done?"

"Oh, dear, come on," Mom sighed tiredly. "He's lonely. He's only got Hobbes for company now, and we know how talkative _he _is."

"Well, he should get out there and make some new friends," Dad grumbled. "I can't stand seeing him idle."

"I prefer it to him getting in trouble with the neighbors. Just enjoy the silence. He doesn't let us have it very often."

Dad sighed. "So we're just going to let him do this all through his spring break next week? Is that it? He'll just sit around and let his brain melt away?"

"Well, what else is there to do?"

"I could teach him how to ride his bike."

"He thinks the bike is alive and wants to kill him."

"I could take him for a nature hike through the hills."

"He hates any kind of exercise we force on him."

"I could sit him down and have a nice chat with him."

"He is utterly determined to ignore the virtues of any lectures you or I or anyone else has to give him."

"Well, what are we supposed to do with a kid who doesn't like doing anything that isn't _his _idea?!"

"I don't know. Look, he's got to get over his depression at some point, and I don't think we should rush it."

"Well, we can't just sit around and do nothing. I say we do something about it."

"Like what?"

Dad reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of paper that he'd cut out of a newspaper and handed it to his wife. She unfolded and stared at the words on it in bemusement before holding it up.

"You held onto this?" she asked incredulously.

"It seems like a nice place."

"Oh, for crying out loud… If you think he's going to resist a bike ride, how the heck do you think he's going to react to _this_?"

"Dear, the camp looks like fun. I researched it. They have games and activities and nice food and _bunk beds_! Calvin's always wanted a bunk bed!"'

"Only to keep away from the monsters under his bed," Mom reminded him.

"Dear, come on – I think the trip might do him some good. He'll have fun and be away from his problems for a while."

"While learning about obedience and respecting authority?"

"Merely a bonus for us," Dad replied innocently.

Mom massaged her temples in sheer anticipation of the headache this was going to cause. "Okay, fine, if you can get him to go, we'll sign him up and get him a room over there. I'm telling you, though – this is _not _going to be pretty."

Dad nodded and headed in the direction of the backyard. "Hey, Calvin – wake up! I have wonderful news for you!"

The door shut, and thus, Mom was not privy to the upcoming conversation. She simply went over to the junk drawer and pulled out her trusty old earplugs, which had come in handy many times since Calvin was born. She put them both in her ears and went back to her previous task of sorting her recipes for next week. She went about this task for approximately ten seconds before there was a particularly loud screech from the backyard.

"_NOO-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-OO!_"

There was a brief pause.

"_YOU CAN'T MAKE ME! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!_"

There was another pause.

Then there was a splash that didn't even cause Mom to glance up.

It wasn't until she noticed someone's knuckles tapping on the table in front of her that she looked up to see her husband soaking wet and his glasses askew. He didn't look happy at all.

Casually, she took the earplugs out and looked up at him. "Well…?"

"He… threw a water balloon at me."

"I had a feeling. How'd he take it then?"

"Not good."

"I didn't think he would."

"So I'm signing him up anyway to punish him."

"Well, that'll make it _so _much better."

Dad stalked out of the kitchen, dripping water on the floor as he went.

Mom threw a glance out the window at Calvin ranting and raving outside in the treehouse, shouting angrily at his stuffed tiger and basically making his opinions known to anyone who should be passing by, be they human, wildlife or otherwise.

"Oh, this is not going to be pretty," she sighed.

* * *

The days before Calvin was to be shipped out were _not_ pretty. He was constantly complaining and whining to whoever would listen, despite their attempts to block him out. He complained during breakfast, during class, during lunch, during class again, during his trip to the principal's office and during the bus ride home.

"What an absolute impedance of justice!" he complained as he walked through the door. "Where does Dad get off sending me away to some camp just so I'll be out of his hair for a week? It's an outrage! He thinks he can get rid of me, does he? I'll show him! I'll be as obnoxious as humanly possible from here on out! I'll be so badly behaved they'll send me _home _just to get rid of me! I know my way about! I know how to get through life! SCREAM! SCREAM! _SCREA – _OOF!"

The world suddenly turned orange and white as he felt a familiar force suddenly wrap itself around his middle and carry him across the lawn into some shrubbery. When he emerged, he saw Hobbes jumping around on all fours, laughing and hooting with merriment. Calvin could only glare at him as he spat out several leaves and pulled a twig out of his hair.

"Whooo!" Hobbes cheered. "Feel like shutting up yet?"

Calvin growled and proceeded to chase Hobbes around the yard for several minutes. They ran in circles, up and over the mailbox, around the fire hydrant and through the shrubbery a second time. Hobbes managed to effortlessly jump over all the obstacles while Calvin either had to climb over them or crash into them _before _climbing over them.

Finally, Hobbes ran back into the house, and Calvin ran straight in after him, startling his mother, who was carrying a potted plant down the hallway at just that precise moment. She was so startled she almost lost her grip, and the plant went flying through the air. Thankfully, she was able to get back under it and catch it in time, but that still didn't improve her mood.

"CALVIN! STOP RUNNING THROUGH THE HOUSE!"

"Well, he started it!" Calvin yelled, pointing up the stairs in the direction Hobbes had disappeared to.

Mom didn't see anyone, naturally, so she just shook her head. "Look, Calvin, I know you're still angry about going to camp, but you never what's going to happen there. You might actually enjoy camp."

"It just isn't fair, Mom! It's weird enough that all my friends moved away! Now I have to go to some sort of camp, away from my regular routine? How are Hobbes and I going to deal with this if we have no one to enjoy it with?"

Mom blinked. "Hobbes?"

"Well, sure! And Hobbes is going to be _hungry_ late at night! What if he just randomly decides to eat one of the kids? He'd do it!"

There was a long pause wherein Mom was clearly deciding how to break the next bit of news that her husband had apparently chickened out of. "Calvin… _Honey_…"

Calvin's eyes widened. His mother only ever called him 'honey' if she had bad news to break him. "What…?" he asked cautiously.

"Honey, this camp is a very simple camp. You're not really allowed to bring a lot from home. It's all about learning about yourself when you're away from your favorite possessions and necessities, like your computer and your toys and your TV and your… stuffed animals."

Calvin raised an eyebrow, apparently not comprehending.

"… and _Hobbes_," she finished.

It was as if the entire world just stopped turning. Time seemed to be frozen. Calvin's brain was having trouble rebooting, and the tiny little microbes in his brain were having trouble getting him going again. They seemed to be getting some sort of error message saying, 'INFORMATION IS FLAWED. PLEASE TRY AGAIN.'

Mom waved her hand in front of Calvin's face. "Sweetie…?" she asked worriedly. "Calvin, _please_ say something."

Calvin blinked his way back into reality, absolutely confused. "… Hobbes isn't going with me?" he asked at last.

"Honey, I'm sorry, but – "

"Why are you doing this?"

"I know it seems unfair, but – "

"I'm going through enough already! Now I have to leave my best friend behind?!"

"I know that's hard to accept, dear, but – "

"You're shipping me out for a week to go to some camp I don't want to go to, and _now _you tell me I have to do it completely isolated?!"

"Dear, I know how you feel, but – "

"But what?!"

"... But don't get mad at _me!_ I'm your mother!"

Calvin stared at her for a very long moment before settling on his best glare and storming upstairs. She listened as he slammed the door to his bedroom hard.

"Well," she sighed. "I think I just earned myself a scornful look on Mother's Day."

* * *

Calvin spent the next few days even more depressed than before. After calming down from his initial anger, he entered a moody funk that nobody could drag him out from. He was quiet, sullen and withdrawn.

Needless to say, his parents were silently relieved that he wasn't causing trouble. He was just sitting around in his room, staring out the window. He still wasn't paying attention in school, despite Miss Wormwood's attempts to snap him out of it by shouting at him. He tended to stare straight ahead in a silent depression. He wasn't causing any sort of trouble other than that, so eventually the teacher decided she should count her blessings and continued her favorite pastime of yammering on for hours, giving her long and droll lessons that would've put a hummingbird to sleep.

Even when Hobbes pounced him when he got home, it didn't do much. Calvin didn't even yell. He simply didn't have the strength anymore. They would simply clean themselves off and head upstairs to his room, where he quietly sat around and waited for the next day to end.

His parents sat downstairs in the living room, sipping tea and enjoying magazines and the newspaper, which they hardly ever got to read with Calvin usually causing so much trouble. However, as they turned each page, they kept checking over their shoulders for whatever he might be doing next. They were very suspicious that their boy was plotting some sort of revenge. They were sending him away to a camp he didn't want to go to during the height of his depression. He was the sort of person who would delight in an excuse to dump water balloons on them, or track mud through the house.

The evening before Calvin was to go away, they were particularly worried, and soon they became too paranoid to enjoy the activities that they'd been yearning for. They always checked the cushions of whatever they were about to sit on for any sort of whoopee cushion or strange animal. They checked the fireplace for any sort of innocuous mechanisms. They put up a mirror in the living room so they could always check for any sneak attacks.

The entire day went by with no such activity.

The reason was simple – Calvin was too depressed to inflict revenge on anyone. It was as if his fighting spirit had been drained. He had absolutely no desire to fight back. Everything had fallen apart rather quickly. His world had changed so fast that he hadn't had much of a chance to defend himself, so he wound up lethargic as he simply took whatever was thrown at him.

The night before he was due to leave, he didn't even think to have his dad check for monsters or read him a bedtime story. He just lay there as his mother tucked him in.

"Get a good night's sleep," she said, kissing his forehead. "You have a big day ahead of you."

Calvin didn't reply. He just sighed heavily.

Mom turned out the light and left the room.

Hobbes could only glance at his friend before putting an arm around him, and Calvin wordlessly snuggled up to him.

_Growing up sucks_, Calvin thought quietly. Even his thoughts were restrained at this point.

* * *

Morning came all too soon.

After a long, fitful, dreamless sleep, Calvin woke up to a cloudy morning – no rain, but it might as well have been. The first day of his spring break looked particularly bleak. He was ready to just give up now. Things had become so thoroughly discouraging that he just didn't have the energy to put up a fight. He went through the motions, putting on his clothes, gathering his things and eating breakfast.

Hobbes was silent through most of it. He helped in the gathering of the clothes required for the trip, all the while planning out his farewell speech. He hadn't thought it all the way through yet. He didn't know what precise words he was going to use. Still, he knew the basic theme he was going to use, and he had a feeling that Calvin would appreciate it. First, though, they had to get through all the usual morning tasks.

Calvin's parents were silent as well, but their manner was a little more cheerful. These were the people who would always put Calvin out at the bus stop two hours early on the first day of school, absolutely thrilled to have a chance to get rid of him for a few extra hours. They weren't making a big show of it, but his mom did sashay a little bit as she prepared breakfast, and his dad was humming a jaunty little number as he prepared his dry toast and prunes.

Calvin just stared into his cereal, robotically eating it and not putting up a fuss like they had expected. Unfortunately, they were so relieved he was behaving himself that they didn't really try to make him feel better. They just went about their business, enjoying the peace and quiet.

As soon as Calvin spooned the last bit of cereal into his mouth, his mom quickly swiped away the bowl and poured the milk into the sink. "Okay, Calvin, go get your suitcase. It'll be time to leave in five minutes."

Calvin could only nod helplessly as he walked away towards the stairs, walking up each one like a man on his way to his execution. He put one foot in front of the other, barely focusing on what was ahead. He didn't even realize he'd arrived in his room until he noticed Hobbes handing him his suitcase with an encouraging smile.

"Here," he said gently. "Are you ready to go?"

"… I guess so."

Hobbes could only look his friend up and down for a moment, taking in the sight before him. He had rarely ever seen his friend look so utterly defeated.

"Well…," he said at last. "I suppose quoting Dylan Thomas right now would be a bit pointless."

Calvin blinked. "Who's Dylan Thomas?"

"He was a poet."

"Oh? What did he write?"

"Well, he's most famous for saying, '_Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light_'."

"Oh… Who's the light? Am I the light? Am I dying?"

"No, no, no… I think in this case, the light would be your spirit, and you should fight against _it _dying."

"My spirit is dying?"

"In a theoretical sense, I suppose. You've become a bit depressed lately."

"… Yeah, well…"

"Maybe instead of letting yourself be consumed with your own misery, you ought to fight against it. You're going to a camp that specializes in breaking your spirit and making you obedient against your will. Maybe you should be fighting them."

"How do I do that?"

Hobbes shook his head. "You disappoint me."

"What? What did _I_ do?!"

"You're Calvin! You're the kid that brought down an entire civilization when they invaded someone else's planet! You escaped from a maze of death! You play with the minds of sadistic aliens who are out to kill you! I should think that you of all people could handle one week at a stupid camp!"

Calvin blinked, taken by surprise by his friend's words. Usually, Hobbes served as a sort of moral guardian in times like this, telling him that the world be a bit better if he behaved himself and accepted life's challenges and so forth. "What are you telling me, Hobbes?"

"I'm telling you to hang in there and be yourself. Becoming a mature person would mean nothing if it only came at the cost of breaking your spirit."

Calvin thought about that. He had long suspected that himself, but to hear his friend saying out loud was encouraging. He thought for a few more moments.

Then a shrill voice interrupted him. "CALVIN! GET DOWN HERE! IT'S TIME TO GO!"

Calvin looked towards the door momentarily before turning around and hugging his friend one last time. "I'll send you postcards," he said quickly.

"Have fun," Hobbes replied, winking broadly.

With one last grin, Calvin turned and ran downstairs towards the living room where his parents were waiting.

"Okay, let's go!" Dad said eagerly. "Time for camp! Isn't it exciting?"

"Oh, yes," Calvin replied smoothly. "_Very_ exciting."

Missing the tone in his son's voice, Dad led the way to the car. They all piled inside, and as they were pulling out of the driveway, Calvin threw a glance at his bedroom window, where he saw Hobbes waving at him. He felt his confidence grow.

_Bring it on_, he thought to himself.

With that, the car took off for the camp.


	5. First Day at Camp

The camp wasn't a typical camp. If anything, it certainly wasn't like Camp Pine. That camp was a sort of rural, out in the woods, log cabins and campfires sort of camp. This one was more like a suburban camp. There were still plenty of buildings close by, but the camp was more in a sort of secluded area that more closely resembled an apartment complex with a playground around back.

Calvin looked up at the sign that stood on the entrance.

_Welcome to Obedience Camp! Stomping the Disobedience out of Children since 2003! Sponsored by Latex Finish ™!_

It wasn't encouraging.

The car pulled around into a parking space, and Calvin found himself being led out of the car by his parents. They both held his hands so he couldn't bolt, and Dad carried the suitcase in the other hand.

"All right, Calvin," he said, calmly, "here we go. Are you ready?"

"Quite," Calvin replied shortly.

"You know, Calvin, we appreciate how well you're taking this," Mom said. "It's good that you're learning to accept this, and we hope you have a good time."

"Oh yes," Dad agreed. "Hopefully, you learn something while you're here."

"I'll either have a good time, or I'll learn something. I can't do both," Calvin objected.

"Just work with us," Dad sighed.

They walked through the glass front doors of the building and approached the woman in the red cardigan behind the desk. She was an older brunette with a perky expression with the emptiest eyes they had ever seen. Her face was pale with a sprinkling of freckles, and her teeth glistened in the fluorescent light as she flashed them a sixty-watt smile their way.

"Hello! Welcome to the Obedience Camp for disobedient children! My name is Carol! How may I help you?" Her voice was like every single trained receptionist in the world – overtly cheerful and highly annoying.

"Yes, we're here to check in our son, Calvin," Dad said, trying not to look too disturbed.

"Oh, good!" she cheered before leaning over the desk to look down at Calvin. "Hello, Calvin! My name is Carol! Can you say 'Carol'?"

Calvin stared at her with open apprehension. "Is she for real?" he asked quietly.

"Calvin, be nice," Mom whispered before readdressing the deranged woman before her.

"Come on, Calvin!" Carol continued. "Let's see where your room is! I'll bet your roommates will be glad to see you!"

"Roommates? I'm bunking with other kids? I can't! I'm claustrophobic!"

"Oh, you are not," Dad grumbled.

"Then I'm people-phobic! As a proud member of the Anti-Social Society, I refuse to be subjected to this sort of torture!"

Carol simply picked up the suitcase. "Come along! Say goodbye to mommy and daddy!"

His parents surrounded him. "Well, we'll see you in a week, dear," Mom said, giving him a hug that he squirmed all the way through. "Please try to behave, and just remember, it'll be over before you know it."

Dad hugged him as well. "Try to learn something while you're here," he said. "You know, when I was your age, I would've loved to have come to a place like this."

"Don't worry, Dad. I'll try to be just as bitter and disappointed about my ill-spent youth as you when I'm an adult."

Dad blinked in surprise while Calvin turned and walked away, following the undeterred Carol down the hallway, and he left without throwing them a second glance.

Mom crossed her arms and looked at her husband disdainfully. "Well, _that _could've gone better."

"Oh, just give him time to come around," Dad said, shrugging off the moment. "Wait until he's been here a few days. He's bound to enjoy it."

"In the past, you've been a remarkably poor judge of what your son will enjoy. I'm just remembering every camping trip and bike ride and game of catch…"

"Well, I won't be here for this one, so maybe _that'll_ be the necessary catalyst."

Mom's hard gaze softened ever so slightly, and she put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You've really embraced this whole curmudgeon phase of yours, haven't you?"

Dad stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked at the floor. "I just want the best for him."

She linked her arm with his and guided him out of the building towards the car. "I know, dear, but I still think we're going about it the wrong way."

"There's no way _my_ dad would've done stuff like this for me when I was his age."

"So that's what you think this is? You think you're spoiling him?"

"Aren't I?"

"No!"

Dad took a moment to blink before he shrugged and got into the car. "Well, it's too late now. We've paid for it, and he's going to have to sit through the camp. Still, if he doesn't like it, maybe we can make it up to him."

"What did you have in mind?" Mom asked, sitting down next to him.

"Well, I could oil and grease all the moving parts on his bicycle, and we could…"

"Dear, he doesn't like bike riding."

"He should still learn. You know, my dad never taught _me _how to ride a bike. I had to learn myself."

Mom massaged her temples. Sometimes, it felt like she had _two _kids…

* * *

_Our hero, the intrepid Spaceman Spiff, has been captured on the Planet Hok! He has been sold into slavery and left to suffer at the fate of the fascist aliens who wish to break him and bend his will and make him into one of their mindless servants. He is being led to his cell in the internment camp. The alien before him is holding a large gun to his head that prevents him from acting, but little do they know that our hero has a plan._

"Here we are!" Carol announced, opening the door to the bedroom. "Boys – you have a new friend to make! Here he is!"

_Our hero looks the fellow prisoners up and down. They appear to be aliens as well, but they seem to be of the harmless variety, although whether or not they were like that before their imprisonment remains to be seen. They give him vacant expressions, hinting at a lack of mental faculties._

The three other kids all looked Calvin, weirded out by the strange and furtive way he was moving around, looking at them shiftily.

_The alien captor puts Spiff's personal artifacts on his cot for the time being, and he is left alone for a moment, and he notices that the door is still open. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, our hero makes a break for it before they can shackle him!_

"Okay, Calvin – this is where you'll be sleeping. I'm sure you boys will be getting to know each other very quickly and – "

"SPIFF ESCAPES!"

Carol was jolted out of her cheeriness when Calvin suddenly turned and fled the room, running up the hallway and towards the room they had just come from, making spaceship noises as he went.

However, rather than chase after him, she promptly pulled out a waklie-talkie and spoke into it. "We've got a runner in Hall 3! We've got a runner heading for reception! Blonde, red shirt!"

Calvin was just making his way to the door to reception when he heard heavy footsteps on the other side of the door. He slowed down and gently pushed the door open, only to have it wrenched all the way open, coming face to face with a man in a black security outfit who glared down at him suspiciously.

"… I was just looking for the restroom," Calvin managed to squeak out.

The man simply pointed back in the direction of his room, and when Calvin looked, he saw Carol walking up to him.

"Now that was very naughty, Calvin," she said cheerfully. "We don't care for naughty children here!"

Something about the way she said that made Calvin shiver. He began backing away, but he found her bony fingers wrapping around his arm, and he ended up being dragged away to his room again. She gently pushed him inside, smiling cheerily the whole time.

"Okay!" she said. "Now that we got that out of the way, why don't you get to know your new friends? I'm sure by the next hour you'll be the best of friends!"

"Do I have a choice?" Calvin asked.

She simply laughed violently before turning around and leaving and they heard the dim sound of the door lock clicking into place.

"I don't think you do, actually," one of the boys said.

Calvin turned around to take in his new roommates. They were three boys about his age. One was taller and lanky with freckles and red hair. Another was stocky and had dirty blonde hair. The third was shorter and had curly brown hair and glasses.

"Do you have names, or do they strip you even of _that_ when they incarcerate you?" he asked.

They looked confused for a moment before shrugging.

"I'm Robert," the tall boy said.

"Jason," the blonde boy said.

"Daniel," said the short one.

"Charmed," Calvin replied. "The name's Calvin."

They all nodded awkwardly before making way for him to move to his bed. Calvin opened his suitcase and proceeded to unpack.

"Well, this seems like a friendly environment," he said dryly. "Lovely reception. The goons didn't even frisk me."

"They probably could tell you didn't have anything on you," Robert said with a hint of knowingness. "We heard about a kid in Hall 7 who got in trouble for bringing a sharpened pencil."

Calvin shook his head. "They're determined to keep us down. I've only been here a few minutes, and already they've left a lasting impression. Especially that Carol lady. Those bony fingers of hers…"

"Yeah, she's got a good grip," Jason nodded, rubbing his own arm in remembrance.

_"Physical_ grip," Robert corrected. "Her _mental _grip is lacking somewhat."

"What is it with adults around here?" Calvin sighed. "Have you ever noticed how stupid adults can be sometimes?"

"Most of the time," Jason agreed.

"My dad's pretty sharp," Daniel said. "But he never notices certain things."

"My parents are the same way!" Calvin exclaimed. "They never notice anything I do unless I'm screwing up! They never notice when I save the world or fight aliens or defeat ancient evils! They only ever notice when I break a vase!"

The three boys stared at him.

"I actually meant he never notices when I do my chores…," Daniel said awkwardly.

Calvin rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm going to give this place _one day_ to adapt to my needs, and if they can't fulfill them, then I'm afraid I may have to take matters into my own hands."

"Well, good luck with _that_," Jason snorted. "You wouldn't be the first to try and change this place."

"There have been _several_," agreed Daniel. "I tried doing that when I was five, and I've been coming back here every year for the past three years since."

"These people have some sort of mental radar that detects bad behavior," Robert added. "They somehow know when and where we're going to be."

"Weird," Calvin murmured. "Well, they haven't met _me _yet. Anyway, let's focus on the here and now instead of tomorrow. What's the first item on the itinerary?"

"Well, it's the first day, so we typically have orientation so we can all become best friends in half an hour," Jason said.

"Then we have lunch in the cafeteria with 'brain food' like tofu and cabbage and stuff," added Daniel.

"And then we have that thing where we sit in a circle and discuss what makes us feel vulnerable," Robert put in.

"… Seriously?" Calvin asked.

"If you don't talk, they _encourage _you."

"How?"

"By _asking you how you feel_."

Calvin swallowed. "Well, that sounds entirely unpleasant. So what happens now?"

Daniel checked his watch. "Well, it's coming up on ten o'clock, so I imagine we're going to have some sort of orientation for all the new kids like you."

"How does that usually go?"

"Oh, they have to fill the whole hour, so it gets dragged out for some considerable time."

"Yeah, if you can't think of an answer to their casual questions about your past, they make you invent something, and each answer has to last at least one minute."

Calvin blinked. "Well… I think I should be all right there… I can talk about myself for weeks."

The other kids looked at each other.

"Oh, this I have _got _to see," Robert said at last.

* * *

The gymnasium had about fifty kids sitting in a circle on the floor, and the counselors were all going around with a microphone so everyone could hear each other.

"Okay, boys and girls," Carol said pleasantly. "We have some new faces this year, so who would like to go first?"

A few hands went up, but Calvin's was the most noticeable as he waved eagerly.

"All right, Calvin, we'll start with you," she said, handing him a second microphone. "Tell us a little bit about yourself. Where are you from?"

Calvin took the microphone and grinned evilly. "I am from the Planet Nerforamus, and I am a member of a clone batch designed by the indigenous species known as the Maltrusance Race!"

Everyone took a moment to digest this information. Some of the kids began snickering.

Carol attempted to save face. "Well… that's very _creative_, Calvin, but how about you tell us where you're _really_ from?"

"I am a proud member of clone batch forty-seven point nine! How dare you besmirch the name of my family?!"

The kids were giggling more and more now, and the counselors were trying to silence them.

Carol cleared her throat. "Well… Calvin, why don't you tell us what your favorite memory is?"

"I remember this one time my friend's pet hamster accidentally created a monster made from toe fungus that came to life and started terrorizing us until we finally figured out how to apply an ointment that could whittle it away into nothing. It was _cool_!"

"… I see… Why don't you try again, Calvin? I'm certain that's _not_ your favorite memory."

"You dare to decide what my favorite memory is?"

"Calvin, we both know that probably didn't really happen, so why don't you just tell us _another _favorite memory that _didn't _involve monsters?"

"Hmmmm… I once hit Susie Derkins over the head with a slush ball. That was pretty sweet."

"Oh… How about one that doesn't involve you _harming _another person?"

"But how would that be _fun_?"

"Calvin, hurting people is _not_ fun!"

"No, but it can be immensely satisfying."

A few kids let out some whoops and cheers in agreement, once again getting silenced by the counselors.

"Calvin, we take a dim view on violence around here," Carol said in a tone that suggested she was attempting to be stern.

"_I _take a dim view of adults trying to stifle the creative force of a child just because they can't deal with them."

"… That is _not _what we're doing."

"You hesitated."

"You surprised me."

"Because I can _think_?"

"You are disrupting the activity, Calvin."

"Yeah, it must be weird to hear the sound of children laughing instead of yawning."

More laughter. More silencing.

Carol was clearly trying to keep her head on straight. All the order and credibility she had built up around herself over the years was starting to crack. She took three deep breaths to cleanse her mental faculties.

"Calvin…," she said in a very strained voice. "Just answer the question."

"And if I don't?"

"Then… I will put you in the _box_."

The room suddenly became deathly quiet. All the kids were looking at Calvin in horror, all silently telling him to stop now. Some were shaking their heads as subtly as they could, willing him to stop now.

Calvin decided to take a chance. "What's… the box?" he asked in as respectful a voice as he could fake.

Carol smiled sweetly, mistaking his inquiry for fear and intimidation. "It's where we send all the naughty boys and girls who can't behave themselves. You would sit there for one hour to decide whether or not you would behave yourself."

Calvin blinked. "Where is it?"

"That's the beautiful thing about the box," Carol replied, smoothly taking a magic marker out of her pocket. "It's wherever you want it to be."

Calvin stared at the marker with a degree of worry. Logically, he knew that there was no way that a magic marker square that had been drawn on the floor could truly hold him, but there was something about the way she was looking at him that made him uneasy. Deciding he didn't want to test it at the moment, he cleared his throat.

"I once got an 'A' on my history test," he said with as little emotion as he could.

Carol beamed. "Wonderful! Now _that's _a good memory! Clap for Calvin, kids!"

The kids all clapped.

Calvin threw a glance to Daniel, who simply nodded and winked.

There would a time for answers later. For now, it was time to play along.

* * *

When they got home, Calvin's parents walked throughout the house in silent contemplation. They were still trying to decide whether or not they had done the right thing in sending Calvin to camp. They wandered aimlessly upstairs, finding themselves standing in the doorway to his room. It was tidier than they remembered.

They weren't sure of just when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, Calvin had become tidier and more organized. It was less of a hassle to get him to clean up. He still fought against bath time like a crusader, but keeping his room neat had become less of a chore. His clothes were neatly tucked away in the dresser, his toys were all organized in the toy chest, and desk was clutter-free with the pencils and pens in a coffee mug he had stolen from the cabinet, and the papers were all stacked into two piles: one for homework, and the other for some drawings that seemed to mostly be of his CD player and various other knickknacks he had lying around.

They walked inside taking note of the various things that had changed over the years.

"Just when I think he's past all hope, he suddenly starts taking care of his things," Mom murmured, taking a peek into the surprisingly tidy closet to find all the old jackets and dress shirts hung up nicely.

"He's definitely full of surprises," Dad agreed quietly, looking a few of the items over, surprised by the lack of scratches on most of them.

Mom noticed the familiar stuffed tiger that lay prone on the pillow. It was staring back at them with marble eyes. "It seems so wrong for him to just sit there…"

"Who?"

"Hobbes."

"Dear, Hobbes has _always _just sat there."

"I know, but it seems I'm always sewing him up after some sort of adventure he and Calvin have gone on. To see him stationary…"

Dad thought for a long few minutes. Seeing all of his son's things sitting around without his son playing with them was putting him in a strange mood. To see the artifacts of his son's life out in the open before him stirred some odd emotions that made him consider his own life and how he treated Calvin in general, and it made him start to wonder if maybe it was time to admit something he hadn't wanted to admit for a long time.

So he turned to his wife and said, "Do you think it's time we had a yard sale?"

Mom blinked, incredibly thrown by this statement. "Wait… What?"

"Well, it's kind of crowded around here, and we could stand to get rid of a few things, and we could use the extra money…"

"… What would we sell?" Mom asked, fearing she already knew the answer.

"Oh, just a few of the useless things around the house… Maybe some of the things we don't use anymore…"

"You mean like the exercise bike we got last year from your aunt?"

"Well, I have my _own _bike…"

"Okay… What else? That's the only thing I can think of worth getting rid of."

"How about some of your old books? You've read most of them by now."

"I suppose…"

"We've got the old junk in the garage we could get rid of…"

"Okay…"

"And since Calvin's not here, he wouldn't be able to stop us from…"

Mom rubbed her eyes tiredly. "So you want to sell his stuff?"

"Well, you know him! He won't part with _any _of his things! He has to have _everything_!"

"What of his do you even know if he uses?"

Dad looked around the room, and his eyes immediately fell on the CD player on the desk. "Well, there's this thing, for a start," he said, picking it up. "I mean, does he even listen to music on it? I've never seen any headphones!"

Mom took it and popped the lid open. She was greeted with the sight of several exposed wires and some sort of speaker grille. "What's he even done to it? It doesn't even look like it could play anything!"

Dad took it back, examining it. "Hmmm… Well, there's bound to be _someone _who'd be interested. Maybe they'd want it for parts, or maybe they'd repair it. There's always someone…"

"You're just determined to get rid of anything that uses batteries, aren't you?"

"Well, come on! It's bad enough we have a telephone!"

Mom shook her head and looked around the room. "Well, I suppose we could stand to get rid of a few of his clothes. He never wears a lot of the stuff in his closet."

"See? You're getting into the spirit of things. Let's start gathering things up."

Mom sighed and opened the closet door, pulling down some of the clothes that she knew for a fact Calvin would never wear. She took down some old button-down shirts and old shoes that were still wearable, as well as some old pants that were wadded up in the back.

Dad was gathering up a few other items with the CD player when he started to pick up the stuffed tiger on the bed.

"Hey!" Mom snapped. "Now hold on a minute!"

"What? What's wrong?"

"We are _not _selling _Hobbes_!"

"Why not?"

"Why not?! Dear, Calvin would never forgive you!"

"Oh, come on! After he's done with camp, he'll have made so many new friends…"

"Have you _met _him?"

Dad thought for a long minute. "Tell you what – we won't sell him. We'll just box him up in the attic, and if Calvin misses him, we'll get him out."

Mom shook her head incredulously. "You're serious about this?"

"Absolutely! It's time Calvin started doing some growing up! Would _our _parents have let us carry around a stuffed animal everywhere we went? Are we going to let him keep carrying this thing around when he's six_teen_?"

"He'll grow out of it eventually!"

"How do you know that? He's always talking to it, taking it everywhere… What are people going to think?"

"Andy never seemed to mind. In fact, he always played along with it…"

"Well, Andy's not here anymore."

Mom looked _very _conflicted. Something about her husband's arguments seemed very random and out of the blue, and yet, there was something about them that appealed to her, and she wasn't sure what or why they did.

"I just don't know…"

"Come on, it's worth a try."

"… Okay," she said at last, "but I'm willing to bet _anything_ that he'll lose his mind when he finds out what you did."

"Thanks, dear. Don't worry. One day, he's going to thank us for this," Dad said, putting a hand on his wife's shoulder.

Mom looked into the stuffed tiger's marble eyes, unable to shake the look of betrayal they seemed to be sending her way.

* * *

**Author's Note: **_Yeah, I know - Calvin's dad is turning into a complete jerk. It will be addressed properly later in the story. I went back through the comic strips, looking up strips specifically featuring him, and I don't think I exaggerated him all that much. It's all stuff that I could see him doing if he were just a little grumpier. _

_Also - try to find the hidden anagram in this chapter! I'll reveal it when the final chapter is posted, but try to find it and unscramble it!_


	6. Organized Outdoor Actvities

Life at camp was no picnic. Calvin was absolutely determined to make sure it was that way not only for himself, but for everyone else involved. If he was going to go down, he'd take the entire organization with him. He was pretty much on his own here. While some of the kids were impressed, the rest were all vacant-eyed drones, reduced to their current obedient condition by the deluded belief of the camp counselors that forcing happiness and never giving into temptation was the only way to live a longer and happier life.

Needless to say, Calvin didn't buy it. So naturally, he went about things his own way.

This wasn't easy with all the security this place had. He had to be subtle, which wasn't always his strongest suit, but he wasn't incapable of it. He was gearing up for what might have been his greatest accomplishment. Forget defeating mad aliens and evil scientists and numerous bogeymen – he was bringing down a fascist camp!

It was the third morning. Calvin had woken up with everyone else, and they were all set to go through the day's activities. First up was breakfast, which so far had done little to satiate Calvin's desire for chocolate cereal. They didn't even have waffles, bacon or eggs. They were all about nutrition here, so they had granola bars and water. It was the belief that it was "brain food".

Calvin took his granola and glass of water and sat down with Robert, Daniel, Jason and some of the other kids who'd been impressed by him.

"So what are we doing today?" he asked them.

"Monday is usually outdoor activities," Jason replied. "I'm not looking forward to it."

"Yeah, I stink at sports," Robert agreed. "I tried Little League for a year, but I was in left field the whole time."

Calvin shrugged. "You lasted longer than I did. I accidentally caught the ball for the wrong team."

"You did?"

"Well, no one told me we were swapping sides!"

"Didn't the other team's left fielder tell you to move?"

Calvin blinked. "Nobody came to left field…"

The other kids stared.

"Well, that's odd, for a start…," Daniel said, scratching his chin. "So their left fielder never showed?"

"Either way, the kids all started yelling at me and tried to hit me with the bat. When I told the coach I wanted out, he called me a 'quitter' and told me to leave."

"Organized sports," Robert sighed. "What a joke."

"So what will _we_ be playing?" Calvin asked.

"Whatever one person chooses, everyone else has to do it," Jason said.

Calvin thought for a long moment. He could feel an idea coming to him. "Who gets to choose?"

"Well, usually, the new kid, which is you, at the moment," Daniel said.

"Do they have volleyballs here?"

"Volleyball?!" Robert complained.

"Yeah, I think they do," Daniel said warily.

"What about croquet?"

"… Yeah, they've got that…"

"What about badminton?"

"How much exercise are you planning on giving us?" Jason demanded.

* * *

The area behind the building wasn't quite a playground. It didn't have a jungle gym or a swing set. It was made up of numerous small-scale versions of traditional playing fields for baseball, football, basketball and hockey, not to mention volleyball. That being said, there was a lot of open space, which was exactly what Calvin wanted to see.

All the kids were lined up on the blacktop that was usually used for kickball. The councilors all faced the large group of children who were all looking back them with blank expressions.

"Okay, kids!" Carol shouted so she could be heard. "It's time for some friendly outdoor activities! Isn't it wonderful?! Hurray!"

There were a few halfhearted cheers, mostly from kids who were too afraid to find out what would happen if they didn't.

"Okay, wonderful!" Carol continued, undeterred. "And since he's our new best friend, why don't we let _Calvin_ choose what we all will play together!"

"I love how she acts like she _just _had this idea," Robert murmured without moving his lips.

"Calvin, why don't you come right up and tell us what game you'd like us all to play?" Carol asked, gesturing for him to join her at the front.

Calvin smiled pleasantly as he walked up. He saw all the sporting equipment from the room he'd snuck into, and he was pleased to see that everything he would need was waiting for him.

"Well, Carol," he drawled, "even though you've _sprung this on me at the last minute_, I think the game I would like to invite all my new friends to play would have to be… _Calvinball_!"

Everyone stared at him for a long moment.

"… Calvinball?" Carol asked slowly, very confused.

"Yes! You don't know how to play? Never mind – I can teach you."

"Well… that's very nice of you, Calvin, but we don't have the equipment to play… _Calvin_ball. What about baseball?"

"Nonsense! We have all we need! It'd be nice if we had masks as well, but we don't have time for that. We'll just remember that for next time."

"Calvin, I really think your friends would rather play something else," Carol said awkwardly, throwing a stern look in the direction of the kids. "_Right_, boys and girls?"

The kids looked _very _confused by the whole thing. They could only look at each other, totally lost and not sure how to respond.

Calvin simply shrugged. "Well, you guys can debilitate all you want. I'm going to go set everything up."

Carol could only stare as he proceeded to pull out the croquet wickets and a volley ball. "Calvin, don't… Just don't do… Someone stop him!"

But even as the councilors went over to guide him back to the group, Calvin was already setting everything up. He was jamming the wickets into the ground and scoping the playing field for places to mark goals.

"Calvin, get back here!" Carol ordered, starting to lose her cool. "Stop this right now! No one wants to play _Calvinball_!"

"I'll play," a voice said.

Her head whipped around in time to see Daniel breaking away from the herd of children and heading over towards Calvin.

"Daniel, get back over there!" Carol snapped.

"But it's the game he chose, ma'am," Daniel replied respectfully as he walked over to the playing field.

"Welcome aboard, Daniel," Calvin said pleasantly. "Do me a favor and set the rest of these wickets up over there, and then grab a mallet and a volley ball for yourself."

"Check," Daniel replied, heading towards the area Calvin had pointed at.

"Boys, stop this! Doesn't anyone want to play something _everyone _can play, like baseball or basketball?"

Growing irritated by the woman councilor's complaining, Robert broke from the herd as well, heading towards Calvin. "How do you play this game?" he asked.

"Oh, it's simple," Calvin replied. "You make up the rules as you go."

"Really? That's the whole game? You just wing it?"

"Yep! Actually, that's really good. Mind if I put that on a t-shirt? 'Calvinball – just wing it!'"

"… Okay, I'll give it a shot. What else do you need?"

"Get the badminton rackets out. Tennis rackets are too heavy."

"On it."

Robert made his way to the pile of sporting equipment, pulling out the necessary rackets.

Jason was the next one to break away from the group, and working on the assumption that anything went, he picked up a basketball and carried over to the playing field as well.

"Kids, stop this at once! We're playing a sport we all can play!" Carol shouted.

"_Anyone _can play Calvinball," Calvin replied evenly. "It's a sport that discriminates against _no one_, no matter how un-athletic!"

Upon hearing this, a few more of the boys and girls looked at each other thoughtfully before breaking away from the crowd and heading onto the playing field, grabbing croquet mallets, badminton rackets and various other instruments like baseball bats and golf clubs.

Carol and her fellow councilors were at a loss for what to do. They considered forcibly dragging the kids away, and but then the kids would probably tell their parents and get them in trouble. They toyed with the idea of calling time out and getting everyone back inside to _vote _on a sport to play that didn't include Calvinball, but by now, loads of kids were heading to the playing field to take part.

Calvin loved this. He'd never had such a big turnout for Calvinball before! He grinned to himself as he handed a few more kids their rackets and mallets, and then, upon seeing that the rest of the kids were too weidred out by him to take part, he shrugged and turned to his new team.

"Okay, let's get started! We'll forgo the anthem today because I'm the only one who knows it and I'm vastly outnumbered. Let's just cut to the chase. The only permanent rule of Calvinball is that it cannot be played the same way twice. If you feel like changing a rule, you have to announce it to everyone so that we're all in on the plot. Try not to hit each other with the mallets or rackets. We've had trouble with that in the past. Most importantly, if you're _going _to make up a rule, for crying out loud, just be creative! Everyone ready?"

There were a few tentative nods from the kids who stared warily at him.

Calvin took the nearest volleyball and took a fighting stance. "Okay! First rule – whoever catches this ball has to keep it going from person to person while the rest of us hit the kickballs with the croquet mallets until someone has scored negative forty-seven points!"

Robert cleared his throat. "Excuse me – _negative_ forty-seven?"

"That's right!"

"How do we get to _negative_ forty-seven?"

"I don't know! Do I have to think of everything? If you don't like it, then make up a new rule!"

Another kid raised his hand. "Are we on teams or something?"

Calvin shrugged. "That's up to you. Feel like making a team? Go ahead. Just don't tell anyone else. It would spoil the fun."

The kids all looked at each other, beginning to question whether or not they should have joined this guy in the first place.

"Okay, think fast!" Calvin shouted, hurling the volleyball into the air.

Some of the kids panicked, dimly recalling the first rule, and some of them started moving around to catch it. Finally, a girl caught it in both hands. She stared at it as if it were a severed head.

"And we're off!" Calvin declared, snatching up a mallet. "Get whacking!"

Several kids instinctively did as they were told and grabbed up some of the mallets, whacking the kickballs around.

"How do we know if we've scored a goal?" one of the girls asked.

"Up to you!" Calvin replied, taking a swing at the kickball. "I'm up to negative six, myself!"

Catching on, the kids started whacking at the balls again.

Jason hit on the clever idea to just start whacking the rubber balls as if he were playing Whack-a-Mole. "I'm up to negative ten! You need to catch up! Negative eleven… Negative twelve…"

The volleyball was making the rounds. The kids tried to alternate between catching it and hitting the kickballs, but they mostly ended up getting bonked on their heads.

Finally, Robert shouted, "New rule! You have to announce it when you're about to throw the volleyball! Some of us would like the chance to grow up to have a deep voice!"

"I'm up to negative thirty!" another kid shouted.

Daniel ended up hitting his ball so hard it flew through the air and rebounded off a goalpost. "I hit the goalpost! That's negative thirty points!"

Meanwhile, the camp counselors and the other well-behaved kids were watching this all in a stupor.

"Wow…," one of the counselors murmured. "You've got to hand it to that kid. He can certainly think on his feet."

"Thinking on your feet is _not _what we teach them here," Carol growled thoughtlessly. "We need to put an end to this."

"Okay, new rule!" a kid shouted. "Anyone caught doing backflips has to sit in jail and sing 'Mary Had a Little Lamb'!"

"But only if you're holding the invisible salamander of invulnerability!" another kid shouted.

Calvin took a moment to stand back and appreciate all that was happening before him. He couldn't help but grin cheesily at the sight of such a large game of Calvinball, with so many kids taking part that they could probably form their own league. Everyone was getting into it now, shouting rules left and right, creating such chaos that any semblance to an organized activity was rapidly vanishing.

He also took great satisfaction in the barely-contained fury of Carol and some of the counselors, who were angrily ushering the kids who hadn't joined the game back inside and were struggling to get the kids who _were _playing back inside for a stern lecture, but they would not be moved. Calvin had created an army of resistance.

However, he noticed something in particular that made him frown. One of the counselors wasn't doing anything. He just stood there, watching him with a fixed gaze. They looked at each other for a long moment, as if sizing each other up. It was the counselor who broke the gaze, and he turned and walked away.

Calvin watched him leave in confusion, wondering what that had been about. He wasn't sure why, but he could've sworn he'd seen that man somewhere before.

* * *

It was dark and stuffy, for a start.

Hobbes had found himself jammed inside a cardboard box and carried up the steps into the attic. He was wedged inside with a bunch of other things, and it was really cramped. He needed to get out and stretch, but he wasn't entirely sure of how to do that. He tried using his claw to cut a whole in the cardboard, but it was really thick, and he couldn't make one big enough.

At long last, he managed to locate the flaps of the box, and he proceeded to tear through the tape that held them shut. He sliced it clean in two and flung the flaps open, all set to make his escape.

Imagine his surprise when he found himself in a dark corner.

He climbed all the way out of the box and looked around. Calvin's parents had put him somewhere in the very back of the attic. He briefly wondered how he could've let himself wind up here. The parents had managed to get him while he was sleeping. He didn't think he was _that _heavy a sleeper – not to the point that he wouldn't wake up when he was being picked up and put somewhere. He hadn't woken up until he was already halfway up the stairs.

So here he was in the back of the musty dusty room, brushing away cobwebs that stuck in his fur, and trying to find his way out of the mess he was in. If he could just find the door that led out of here, he could sneak back to the bedroom and stay there until Calvin came home. He might be able to sneak down to the kitchen at night for food if need be.

However, he still didn't know where the exit was, so he figured his first order of business was to look for that.

Of all the places he had ever been imprisoned, the attic was probably the one he'd least expected. He was very uncertain as to why Calvin's parents had shut him up in here. To be boxed away into storage like a common photo album or bad lamp was very insulting. He was a tiger! He was a savage beast! He was the height of all feline evolution – even if the lions hadn't quite come around to accepting that yet. He briefly wondered if the intended endgame was to have him turned into a rug, but he figured Calvin's parents wouldn't be _that _cruel.

That in and of itself was strange. Why were they doing this? Why did he have to be separated from Calvin all of a sudden? Were they suddenly worried he'd eat him? After all theses many years of living in the same house and sharing the same bed, they suddenly didn't trust him?

Wait… 'Many years'…? That didn't sound right… How long had he and Calvin known each other?

Shaking his head clear of these thoughts, he decided it didn't matter. The first priority was to escape. Maybe he could nab the MTM and teleport to camp with Calvin, and if he couldn't get away with that, he'd teleport to Elliot and Socrates and stay with them for a few days.

He pushed several boxes aside, quietly marveling at all the old junk Calvin's family had collected over the years. Old knickknacks, photo albums, antique Christmas decorations, winter supplies, gifts that nobody wanted and yet couldn't bear to throw out, and even an old Ping-Pong table that Hobbes was certain hadn't been played with in years.

Finally, he saw a small clearing amongst the boxes, and he hobbled over some old shoeboxes to get to it. He saw the ladder folded up on the floor, ready to be lowered to the world below, and he attempted to pull the door open.

To his immeasurable horror, it was locked.

He wasn't sure whether this was out of security or if it was simply how the door worked, but either way, he was trapped. He pounded on the door, trying to raise some noise. He wasn't sure who'd hear him, but maybe the MTM could rescue him somehow.

That made him think: why hadn't the CD player protected him? Why had he been forced to fend for himself? Why had he allowed him to fall to this fate? Sure, the CD player didn't always save them right away to ensure they didn't get too dependent on him, but in a time like this…?

That was when the tiger's acute sense of hearing kicked in. He heard the sound of people talking. It sounded like a lot of people. That was strange. He knew Calvin's parents weren't exactly popular – seeing as how they were Calvin's parents and all – so why were there suddenly so many people talking within the vicinity, especially when Calvin was away and therefore not causing trouble?

Following the noise, he climbed over the boxes again until the found where it was coming from. There was an octagon-shaped window with shutters that game him a small by fairly decent view of the front lawn. He could see through the slits that there was a large group of people milling about in the yard. They were crowding around a bunch of tables that had lots of old junk on them.

That's when he remembered the discussion about the yard sale. So it was really happening.

He searched the crowds. He saw Calvin's dad sitting at a table counting dollar bills and shaking hands while Calvin's mom was walking around, talking to the customers and describing the history and value of the innumerable items that were sitting around.

Hobbes searched the tables, skimming over several objects, making sure there was nothing too important being given away. So far it looked like it was just a bunch of old clothes and toys that he figured Calvin probably wouldn't miss, and a lot of it was things that belonged to Mom and Dad anyway.

He was just considering sitting down when he saw something flash a reflection of sunlight in his eyes. He blinked heavily to clear the strange green spots in his vision before he realized what it was that was being moved.

It was the MTM!

Hobbes watched in horror as the customer who picked up the red CD player took it over to Calvin's mom. He couldn't help but wonder why the MTM wasn't teleporting away or activating any of his security features. Many of Calvin's enemies had tried to get the MTM to work for them, but he was programmed to defend himself if he thought it were necessary. Why was he inactive _now _of all times?

Calvin's mom seemed to be speaking to the man about the MTM. The guy was overweight with thick glasses and thin hair. He looked like he hardly ever left his house from how pale he was. He was still talking rather animatedly, although Hobbes couldn't hear him over the babble of other voices. He was pointing at the different sections of MTM's circuitry with enthusiastic interest while Calvin's mom looked increasingly irritated. It's only okay to have hobbies and secular interests so long as you keep them to yourself and don't expect everyone else to enjoy them along with you.

He tried shouting something. "MTM, wake up! You're being sold! Do something! Teleport away!"

But no one seemed to notice the fact that there was a tiger shouting at them from the enclosed window of the attic above them. He tried to claw his way out, but the wood was pretty sturdy, and he found it very difficult to break the wooden planks.

He could only watch in silent horror as money changed hands, and the man walked away with the MTM, still eagerly pawing over it.

Furious, Hobbes impulsively punched the wooden planks again, but he only succeeded in hurting his paw, and he sat down in throbbing pain. He sat down on another box, but the flaps collapsed under his weight, and he found himself falling backwards into a pile of lumpy old knickknacks. He flailed his arms momentarily before giving up and just pouting where he sat.

He didn't know why the universe was being so cruel to him and his friends at the moment, but the more he thought about it, the more he couldn't help but wonder whether or not some malevolent force was behind all this. If so, he could only wonder what and why.

He cast another cursory glance out the window, and he noticed the mailman was driving along, sticking the mail into the appropriate mailboxes. He thought for a moment that maybe his mind was playing tricks on him, but he could've sworn he saw the mailman, who he had never encountered before, wave at him.

And as he watched him drive away, he couldn't help but reflect that the mailman had looked strangely familiar.

* * *

**Author's Note: **_For those who are eager to see the rest of the gang, we shall be meeting up with them in the next chapter. _

_And no one's guessed the anagram from the last chapter yet..._


	7. Around the World

**Author's Note: **_Okay, let's see how the rest of the gang is doing..._

* * *

China was decidedly _not _fun.

Andy could only stand on the balcony that overlooked the factory that doubled as his home. The whole place was a bit on the unpleasant side. It was a very strict atmosphere, and he wasn't allowed to go just anywhere he wanted. He'd enjoyed being able to walk around anywhere in his old neighborhood and go places he felt like going on a whim. Around here, he was restricted to only a five mile radius around the factory, and when he left, he had to wear a special gas mask because the pollution was so thick. Needless to say, he didn't go outside much.

He was just reflecting on how much he missed the sun when he noticed someone from down below pointing up at him. He realized he had been daydreaming on the job again, and he immediately resumed his task of passing out mission statements to the workers for the third time that day.

Child labor laws were a little murky, and he didn't really understand them, but he had ended up being put to work while he was here in the factory, helping where he could with papers and moving things around, not to mention making sure none of the workers committed suicide.

Working with an assembly line with lousy hours and conditions was beginning to depress the ever-loving snot out of Andy. He knew the workers were miserable, but there was very little he could do about it, and that just infuriated him even more.

He passed around more and more papers, trying not to look anyone in the eye, mainly because they all had that 'dead drone' look in them. He simply gave them each an individual sheet of paper and moved on until they all had one. He shook his head dismally before walking up the stairs that led to the offices up above. He walked along the gantries that overlooked the workers. He had special clearance to walk up here, so no one bothered him.

He wished he didn't feel like a jerk for every step he took above these people.

He walked past the various office doors until he finally found the one he was looking for. It had the name emblazoned on the glass window that had the venetian blinds drawn down it: SHERMAN J HAMSTER – PROJECT SUPERVISOR

Rolling his eyes for the tenth time today after looking at it, Andy opened it without knocking first and walked inside.

The desk loomed high over him. It was absolutely gigantic. It screamed 'corporate businessman'. Of course, the owner of the desk wasn't a man. He was a hamster. It rendered the screaming rather silly.

Andy walked into the brightly lit room and looked up at the desk. He thought the whole setup was ridiculous for such a little hamster, but in the short time they'd been here, Sherman had jumped into the role of being in charge of a project with both hind feet. He looked at the little hamster working away at his desk with quiet fascination.

Sherman had a smaller desk on top of the big one that was suited much more ideally to his needs. He was working away on some of the tiniest computers that he had built himself by replicating regular-sized technology down to his size. If he stood on his hind legs, he was really only about five inches tall, so the fact that he had pulled any of this off was no mean feat. He had somehow managed to hook up his tiny monitor and keyboard to one regular-sized computer modem, and he was going over a number of reports and signing them with a tiny pen.

The whole thing would've been comical if Andy didn't feel so sick about the whole thing.

"Shermie? You got a minute?" he asked hopefully.

Sherman glanced up at his friend. "What now?" he asked, having already been disturbed five other times today by Andy.

The boy squirmed a bit on the spot. "… It's just… Well, I've been wandering around, handing out papers with meaningless words on them meant to motivate employees, and I'm all depressed again."

"Andy, I'm sorry. I've tried to make you feel better, but as I keep reminding you – _you're _the one who wanted to come with me."

"I know… I guess I just never pictured it as depressing as this."

Sherman nodded sagely. "I know what you mean. It hasn't exactly been fun for me, either."

"Really?"

"Well, of course! Do you think I enjoy the fact that my employees are basically being slave-driven like this? It disgusts me! But I can't control it! This is a different culture we're living in, and I can't exactly change it! I've done my best, but the higher-ups nixed my idea for an outdoor game of volleyball!"

"Why?"

"Because the air is so thick with pollution that everyone would suffocate!"

"Oh, right…"

"Andy, I know, okay? Conditions around here are appalling and revolting, but what can we do about it? I can't challenge them, or they'll cut off the whole project! I can only make tiny improvements once in a while. If anything, it helps me preserve my soul."

Andy stared at his feet, beginning to regret ever bringing it up.

Sherman sighed. He'd only succeeded in bringing his friend down even further. "Andy, I'm sorry," he said quietly, walking around his tiny desk to the edge of the human-sized desk so he could look his young friend in the eye. "But this is my dream. And if it works, it will help people all over the world. Maybe I can make it up to them someday, but for now, there's nothing I can do. All I can advise is to get through to the best of your abilities. Find a distraction, if that's all you can think of, because it's sure as heck all _I _can think of."

Andy simply nodded with a somewhat helpless expression. He turned and left the office, closing the door behind him.

Walking out onto the gantry, he stared out at the ocean of misery. The workers were still staring straight ahead, working away and having no lives whatsoever. Every single one of them was focusing on their section of the assembly line, staring vacantly ahead like robots as they fitted the pieces together with their tools.

Sighing with a heaviness he hadn't known himself capable of, his eyes simply started scanning the room, looking for something to distract him from all of this.

He was distracted by a pair of eyes that locked with his.

The eyes were covered by goggles, but they were undoubtedly looking at him. They were so focused on him that Andy briefly wondered if his soul was being scanned at the moment. He stood in silent terror, wondering what he was supposed to do about this. Did he report this guy for not working? Did he yell at him to work? What was the company policy about unsolicited staring?

He opted to turn and walk away instead. He determinedly walked in the opposite direction of this person's gaze.

He threw a momentary glance over his shoulder. He was still being watched.

Swallowing, he resumed walking again. He wasn't sure why, but there was something familiar about that guy.

* * *

"Absolutely amazing…," Leroy said quietly, staring through his magnifying glass. "The amount of work that has gone into this…"

MTM was not enjoying this one bit.

His new owner was prodding over him with tweezers and cleaning swabs, trying to figure out how he worked and what his purpose was. He was being treated like some sort of lab experiment that needed to be examined and jabbed before being allowed out into civilization.

Unfortunately, in this scenario, he was not likely to get out into civilization anytime soon. He was being kept under very strict supervision by this person who had taken him home with him. Leroy wasn't necessarily a bad person. He just needed a girlfriend to distract him from strange things like examining perfectly innocent time-travelling CD players.

"The amount of work that has gone into this is _incredible_…," Leroy breathed.

Okay, he was full of compliments, but MTM was more concerned with getting back to Calvin. The problem was he wasn't sure how to do that without taking this guy with him. He was being screwed around with so much that some of his wires had been disconnected, and that meant that he was stuck with a non-functioning teleporter, a dodgy time machine and no access to his Netflix account.

All he had now was Leroy, a weird guy who collected electronic devices and talked to himself too much. He needed to do something about this. He searched the few working programs he had left for something that could possibly deter this young man from messing around with his innards any longer.

Finally, as he felt a screwdriver going into his gravitational stabilizer, he decided it was time to stop messing around, and he tapped into his power source.

There was a sudden flurry of sparks in the air that sent Leroy flying backwards and onto his back, startled by the effect his screwdriver had caused. He lay in silence for a few seconds, getting his wind back, before he finally registered what had happened and how to properly react to it.

"Okay…," he said slowly, "… next time, I won't touch _that _part…"

As he got to his feet, MTM quietly wished he had the ability to suddenly spout legs and walk away. He would have to talk to Calvin about installing such a feature when they next saw each other again.

That was, if this intelligent idiot didn't completely rip him to pieces first.

Leroy was just about to start tinkering within the CD player's systems again with a pair of pliers that looked like they'd be good at pulling teeth out with when, unexpectedly, the doorbell rang. This definitely surprised the MTM. Leroy didn't strike him as the sort of person who would have anyone to ring his doorbell.

Leroy set his tools down and headed for the door, pulling it open and letting in five other people. MTM watched as they all came into the living room, talking animatedly about things too boring to comprehend, from sci-fi shows to attractive girls that were way out of their league.

"She was, like, a perfect 'ten', man! She had those pink fluffy pants that said 'juicy' on them!" one was saying.

"Why don't you bite her and find out?" another suggested, waggling his eyebrows.

They all let out some sort of cheer that only really immature people use when they're demonstrating their comradely friendship.

MTM was beginning to feel a little left out.

Another one of them noticed the CD player on the table. "Hey, Leroy – what's this thing?" he asked.

"It's a CD player," Leroy replied. "I got it at a yard sale!"

"Looks like a piece of junk," the guy said, running his fingers across the circuitry.

_Oh, really?_ MTM thought ruefully.

There was a bright flash of sparks that burnt the man's fingers, causing him to retract them and immediately stick them in his mouth in the strange hope that saliva would dull the sudden onslaught of pain.

The others started laughing at him.

"Yeah, I don't think it likes that," Leroy said with a grin.

The burnt fellow started waving his fingers in the air to cool them. "Dang, man – you got this thing at a _yard sale_?! I'd call the cops on those jerks!"

Another member of the group started looking the MTM over. "What'd they do it anyway? What's all this stuff for?"

"I haven't been able to figure it out," Leroy said with a shrug. "Looks like it's just a jumble of wires. Still, it must serve _some _purpose. There's a speaker grille in the middle, a bunch of circuit boards surrounding the edges, and there's a weird glowing thing attached to the 'play' button."

"Really? Where?" the guy asked, squinting with his eyes at the distinct lack of glowing thing.

Leroy picked up his screwdriver and gingerly used it to shift some wires over. A strange pale green glow emitted from underneath the wiring, causing everyone else to step back nervously at the sight.

"_There _it is," he said calmly. "Don't worry, it doesn't do anything."

"And none of us were probably ever going to have children, anyway," another one said.

This elicited a collection of snickers from everyone in the room.

"Anyway!" Leroy declared, tossing the screwdriver aside and leaving it on the table. "We came here for a reason!"

"Yes! For me to trounce you all in another game of _Squid Monster Gun Fire VII_!"

"Ha! You wish! Let's get this party started!"

They all herded into the living room to begin the festivities. They started loading up the game to Leroy's TV while simultaneously preparing snacks and beverages that would see them making some very stupid decisions in the near future that would more than likely lead to some interesting conversations in the morning.

MTM could only sit on the table, grumbling quietly at being abandoned in a half-finished state. He couldn't even get his robot arms work to put himself back together. He was a severely-damaged piece of technology that couldn't do anything.

As he sat there, wishing one of them would come back so he could zap them again, he felt like someone was watching him. He could just about detect that one of the members of Leroy's little gang was staring at him. He wished he had eyebrows to arch so he could get the man to stop it.

Eventually, the man, who had said nothing the entire time he had been in the house, suddenly turned and started helping his friends with the folding chairs and beanbags so they could start the game. They were all soon laughing and chortling along, threatening to 'pulverize' each other in this new game of theirs.

MTM tried to search his memory banks, but they were a bit on the blink as well. He wasn't sure why, but this fellow looked a bit familiar…

* * *

California was beautiful and wonderful, if a bit hot, muggy and earthquake-prone.

Socrates looked out of the balcony window of his new bedroom. He stood on the terrace, taking in a lungful of fresh salt air as he took in the ocean view. He watched the people on the beach running around and playing together. He took in the majestic beauty that the sea presented. He watched the ships leaving the nearby bay, heading for trips across the ocean.

Elliot came walking out onto the balcony to join him. "Hey, Socrates," he said awkwardly. "Enjoying the sights?"

"Absolutely!" Socrates said in his usually cheery way. "Just enjoying watching people walk around on the sand, half-dressed and drenched in the residue left behind by our amphibious friends!"

Elliot wrinkled his nose. "Charming…," he muttered. "Well, I'm going to have to go to school in a bit. First day in the new place. Looks like I missed spring break out here."

"Bummer. Never mind! I'm sure you'll have a good time! Actually, here – you might need these later…"

"What?"

Socrates reached into a paper sack he had on the floor and pulled out a handful of thumbtacks. "Put a few of these in your teacher's chair for me, will you? And try to record it with your camera phone."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because just knowing I'm pranking someone from twenty miles away would do me a world of good."

Elliot recognized that his friend was still a bit down about the move, so he decided to be nice about it. "Okay, ol' buddy, I'll see you this afternoon."

"See ya," Socrates replied, saluting theatrically.

Elliot left the balcony and departed.

Socrates continued to relax on the veranda, watching the people going by.

The mansion they'd wound up in was pretty classy. In fact, unlike the old one, which was a couple centuries old, this one was fairly new, probably built in the last three years. It was three stories high with an expansive parking garage attached to the side. It was painted a bland white color with dark red trim, just like all the other mansions on the block.

That was something that bothered Socrates a little. Unlike in the old neighborhood, where their old mansion had been the _only _mansion on the block, taking up half the cul-de-sac it was on the end of, the one they were in now was simply one of many. It was a cookie-cutter mansion, designed to look exactly like all the others so no one would feel jealous, and we all know how temperamental rich people can be.

Everything about the interior was faultless. A massive kitchen took up one half of the first floor, while the other half was consumed by the living room. The second floor was the home theater and game rooms. The top floor was bedrooms, and there were six of them – one for Elliot's parents, one for Elliot, one for his as-of-yet-unseen brother, and one for Socrates, relegating the other two for guests.

The house was huge, but Socrates had no one to feel superior to.

He was keeping his eye on some big buff guy on the beach – muscular, cocky, tanned and a probably never had a pimple a day in his life. He was showing off to all the beachgoers, making all the women titter excitedly and the other guys feel like total losers. He strutted around in a way that could've been described as catlike if we weren't using Socrates as a point of comparison.

Socrates watched as the guy struck a particularly manly pose, causing one girl to fan herself girlishly while her scrawny boyfriend tried not to be a jerk and point out that the big guy was being a jerk. He watched as the big guy walked closer to a particularly large palm tree, still keeping his eye on the girl.

"A little more…," Socrates murmured. "A little more… Nearly there…"

Finally, once the guy was standing right where he needed to be, the tiger reached over and pressed a button on the remote control sitting on the railing next to him.

"Three… Two… _One_…"

There was a splatting sound followed by a rather feminine shriek as the big guy was unexpectedly doused in about one gallon of mustard, covering from his immaculate hair to his freshly manicured toenails. He was turning around in three different directions at once, trying to figure out who had done it.

All the men on the beach immediately started laughing at him, feeling like their high school years had at last been avenged, and the women couldn't help but splutter with helpless giggles, having had the man's testosterone nuked by a bright yellow condiment.

As the man tried to clean himself frantically and maintain his dignity as best he could, he was unaware of the tiger watching him from the balcony, taking pictures of the whole thing with his cell phone.

The problem was that the tiger wasn't laughing. No insane annoying laughter to penetrate the sky and irritate everyone around him. He was just barely smirking at this clown in mustard. He had hoped this would be enough to shake him out of this infuriating funk he'd been stuck in since he got out here, but it wasn't doing it for him. Picking on total strangers was nice, but there was no danger of any of them coming over and yelling at him. If he ever played a prank on one of his friends, you could bet they'd be there in an instant, shouting at him and demanding to know how dare he do this and where did he get access to all that mustard.

California was a bit useless when it came to holding him accountable for his actions. He might as well have moved to Florida.

Depressed to all get out, he decided he might as well go for a walk. He figured he'd be safe enough to go by himself. He typically wasn't noticed by absolutely anyone in the street for reasons he was still unclear on. Something about a red-tailed tiger apparently wasn't very conspicuous in California. He simply chalked it up to living in a town with few excitable people and walked down the three flights of stairs and out the door, onto the streets.

It was a rather nice day, but that's hardly unusual in California. Red-tailed tigers and nice days – run of the mill for the western state, Socrates mused.

His walk took him along the neighborhood sidewalk. It was fairly early in the morning, but he was uninterested in making friends. There were a few people walking dogs – mostly butlers or various other servants. The dogs seemed to notice him, but the servants would make sure they kept going. Socrates shrugged at this. He wasn't all that keen on dogs, anyway.

Walking along with a degree of boredom, he watched as cars passed him on the road and planes roared overhead. He had to admit, for a place that was boring, it was nice to look at. He was just admiring the trees that lined the houses when he realized he could detect some sort of presence behind him. At first, he thought it was just another dog, but he decided to look anyway.

He realized it was a person. In fact, the person was all the way at the other end of the sidewalk. They just stared at each other for a long minute, almost sizing each other up for whatever was going to happen next.

What happened next was a car suddenly coming out its driveway, momentarily blocking their respective views of each other. The car pulled out onto the road and drove away to its destination, leaving Socrates alone on the sidewalk. The figure had somehow vanished into thin air.

Socrates scratched his head. He could tell something was up. He decided to walk into town where it would be more crowded and abduction would be unlikely. He walked off down the sidewalk in a brisk pace – not too fast and not too slow.

He wasn't sure who the stranger was, but Socrates knew one thing – he didn't recognize him one bit.

* * *

The house was still quiet.

Mom and Dad were going about their usual business. Mom would do the house work while Dad went off to work in the morning and came home in the evening. They ate dinner, talked, watched the evening news and went to bed.

Without Calvin to keep an eye on, it was getting increasingly difficult to find things to do to occupy their time. The yard sale had been moderately successful, but after using the money to pay the bills, they found they didn't have much leftover to spend on themselves. They went on with their everyday lives, finding things to do. Dad tried riding his bike after work, but he came home injured one night and decided that it was time to pack it in for a while.

One evening, Mom went up to Calvin's room to look around nostalgically. With most of his possessions either sold or in storage, it didn't really look like her son's room anymore. She decided to do a bit of dusting around the house. She started cleaning the bet posts and the dresser, and she was going to start cleaning under the bed when her husband's car pulled up in the driveway.

When he found her cleaning up, he felt compelled to ask if she wanted to do anything special tonight. "It's not every day we get to go out without having to fork over a boatload of cash for Rosalyn."

"True," Mom sighed. "But not tonight. It's a bit late to find a good table at a nice restaurant somewhere."

"I suppose… Is this all you've been doing all day? Cleaning?"

She gave him a stern look. "Anytime you want to pitch in and do some vacuuming or do the dishes, I'm all ears."

Dad cleared his throat awkwardly. "Right, well… Anything else you want to get rid of?"

"Are you determined to erase every single last detail of our son's existence?" she asked.

"Of course not! Just the bits we can do without. Remember: 'simplify, simplify'."

Mom sighed heavily. "Check his closet. Make sure all the clothes are put away neatly, will you."

Dad shrugged and headed over to the closet, opened the door and looked inside. He saw the nice clothes all hanging from their respective hangers and the spare shoes were in the corner. A few toys were still in place, neatly stacked away on a shelf that was Calvin's height. That was odd, because Dad didn't remember ever installing a shelf there.

However, his thoughts were distracted by the large cardboard box on the floor. He saw the crudely written words on it: 'Transmogrifier', 'Time Machine', 'Duplicator', and a few others that were written upside-down.

"What's this box still doing in here?" he asked.

"That's Calvin's favorite toy besides Hobbes," Mom replied. "I don't see any reason to get rid of it."

"Why? Look at how much room this thing is taking up! Think of how much room we could make if we threw it out?"

"Dear, he loves that box! He's been playing with it for years!"

"I know, but come on! He needs to move on beyond his normal way of doing things! If we let him keep playing with a cardboard box and a stuffed tiger, he'll just regress back to where he was before! You said yourself he's been a bit more behaved lately. Weren't we talking about how much he needs a fresh start?"

Mom looked uncertain. "I don't know…"

"Dear, come on. Let's just take it down to the curb for the garbage man to take away to be recycled. I'll bet he won't even notice it's gone."

"How do we explain the giant gap in the middle of his closet?"

"It's just a matter of moving things around enough so he doesn't notice. Trust me – he won't even miss it."

"Uh-huh… It's just… in the past you've been a remarkably poor judge of how your son is going to react to something…"

"Oh, come on and give me a hand. It's not like it's difficult to get a new cardboard box."

Mom sighed with dread as she gave in and helped him move things around so they could drag the cardboard box out of the closet.

* * *

The sun was going down.

Hobbes had resorted to playing solitaire with an old deck of playing cards he had found, but it was difficult to play such a game all by yourself. He and Calvin usually had tag-team Solitaire where they would take turns with arranging the cards, and sometimes they would move hiding them around the house. It was really boring doing it the normal everyday way.

Still, it was either this or talk to the raccoons that had set up camp in the corner of the room, and they were always playing Poker, and he kept losing, and he was running out of useless junk to bet with.

He was still playing it the best he could when he heard the sound of the door opening. He threw a glance out the boarded up window and saw Calvin's dad making his way out to the curb, carrying something large in his arms to the trashcans. At first, he was uninterested, so he focused on the game some more, but eventually, he found that the game was so boring that he had to look outside to preserve his sanity.

He kept a steady eye on what the bespectacled man was doing. He was setting down the object, which was fairly large and seemed to be the color brown. It was cube-shaped…

Hobbes' eyes widened as he it dawned on him just what he was looking at. It was the cardboard box.

Dad finished putting it away and walked away from it, whistling jauntily.

Hobbes tried shouting at him. "Hey, wait a minute! Stop that! Don't throw that out! We need that! Hey! Get back here!"

But it was no good. Dad either didn't hear him or blatantly ignored him, and he walked back into the house.

Hobbes stared out at the box on the sidewalk, trying to figure out a course of action. Did he try to save the box or not? He toyed with ripping open the window and climbing out of the attic to retrieve it. He tried to pull them open, but they weren't budging.

Then he heard a strange beeping noise coming from outside. His acute sense of hearing kicked in, and he realized it was coming from the box.

A few seconds later, much to his surprise, the box began to slowly rise up off of the concrete and into the air. It shuddered momentarily before steadily righting itself. It briefly hovered in mid-air as if it were figuring out what to do next, and then it decided, aiming itself towards the city. It soared off, away from the house and into the distance.

Hobbes could only watch in confusion.

"Well…," he said at last. "That took care of itself, apparently."

* * *

**Author's Note: **_I'm sure we all remember that comic strip where Mom and Dad are discussing how their lives have become so hectic lately, and Dad remembers Thoreau said, "Simplify, simplify," and they both look at Calvin thoughtfully. That's sort of what inspired part of this story. I just took it to the extreme._


	8. The Plot Reveals Itself

After getting half the camp to play Calvinball with him, Calvin was feeling _very _pleased with himself. The camp was slowly beginning to evolve around to his way of thinking. No more forced happiness and no more group thinking. Everyone was free to express whatever thoughts they had. Sure, these new rules weren't official, but he was making sure everyone was growing comfortable in their individuality.

Unfortunately, this did not sit well with the other councilors. Carol tried to make them behave by putting them in "time outs" and using her marker to draw special squares for the kids to sit in and repent, but eventually, so many kids were requiring squares that they were impossible to keep up with, and ultimately, her markers all ran out of ink. She was forced to order more and have them delivered, and while she waited, she tried instilling the idea of 'imaginary squares'. It didn't work very well as the kids started 'imagining' that the squares were growing larger, allowing them to move anywhere they wanted.

It was supposed to be story time after dinner, which was designed to get the kids to relax so they could go to sleep. The councilor in charge of this was a teenage girl in high school who was supposed to read them _The Three Little Pigs_. Unfortunately, none of the kids were interested, so Calvin stepped up and told them all the story of _Spaceman Spiff and the Gelatinous Green Blob That Assigned Leaf Projects_. Much to the frustration of Carol and most of the councilors, the teenage girl allowed Calvin to proceed, and even more frustratingly, she ended up enjoying the story so much that she let it run long past their bedtime.

"… and so, Spaceman Spiff presented the leaf project to the Green Blob, hoping the assignment would be enough to appease her," Calvin was saying dramatically, complete with hand gestures and funny voices. "But alas, it was not to be. The Green Blob said, 'You have made a mockery of my assignment! These are all just the same leaves cut into weird shapes and given fake names! How dare you come before me with this drivel? You should be ashamed of yourself!'"

The kids all laughed away. This story had been going on for forty-five minutes now, and they were nowhere near tired. They were relaxed, but in a sort of hyper way where they laughed at everything and bounced around.

"And so Spaceman Spiff was humiliated before the entire planet's population! He had done the assignment required of him, and he was still burned with his story believed to be a fabrication! After everything he had been through, he was still sent to be executed. Fortunately, with no small part of heroics and ingenuity, he managed to escape by stealing the blaster that had been confiscated, and he blasted his way back to his ship. He escaped, free to fight another day! The moral, of course, is that learning about leaves is worthless knowledge, and not worth the time of important people like us. Remember that, folks, and goodnight!"

He took an overdramatic bow.

Most of the kids were clapping, but the rest were just looking at him like he was insane.

The councilors all moved forward to start rounding them up.

"Okay, everyone," Carol said with a forced smile. "It's time for bed! Aren't we all tired? You bet we are! So how about we thank Calvin for telling his silly story and sleep, okay?"

Some of the kids did as they were told, but the rest were all talking animatedly.

Calvin smirked at the chaos. He had grown to be quite the ringleader in the time he'd been here. What he'd assumed would be a hellish experience had proven to be quite liberating. He hadn't this much fun in years. Just watching all these kids following his lead by trying to tell their own stories was fulfilling in a way he hadn't expected.

He glanced around the room at the several councilors who were once again trying to restore order, only for his eyes to lock with the one councilor who had been watching him from afar. There was still something about this guy that Calvin felt was familiar, and deciding that it was time for him to get some answers, he walked in his direction.

However, the councilor turned and started walking towards the door, exiting through it.

Seeing that everyone was too distracted by the kids trying to tell their own stories, Calvin was able to sneak out through the same door. He ducked into the hallway, looking all around for the councilor who had eluded him. He caught sight of some movement to his left, so he headed in that direction, running to the end and following the shadowy figure.

The chase took him to the gymnasium. He looked around the spacious room, listening to the sound of his own sneakers squeaking on the wooden floor. His eyes flitted all around the gym, trying to find the man, but most of the lights were out, so he was walking in a very dimly lit room. He saw the bleachers on either sides, and the basketball hoops hung on the opposite sides, but there were no people.

Figuring that it wasn't worth checking behind the bleachers – the thought of being cornered back there set off all sorts of warning alarms in his head – he turned to leave. He had just finished turning for the door when he came face-to-face with the councilor. Well, face-to-knees. Calvin still isn't very tall.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

Finally, Calvin could see who the councilor was. "Klein…," he said quietly.

"Hello, Calvin," Klein replied.

"… Have you always been able to just appear out of thin air?"

"Yes."

"… So there's more to you and your little family that meets the eye?"

"Yes."

"… I knew it."

"Calvin, my brothers and I have been looking after you and your friends for quite a long time now."

* * *

Andy continued to walk along the gangway over the workforce. He had been trying to find something to distract himself from the workers below him and how terrible they had it, but so far, his guilt had only gotten worse as they continued on, sweating and toiling and clearly feeling miserable.

Sherman had tried to be encouraging, but the whole thing was beginning to weigh heavily on his little hamster shoulders. His discomfort with how his invention was being distributed was beginning to tell on his conscience, and he couldn't stop wondering if this was all worth it? Yes, this was a groundbreaking invention that could help people all over the world, but what could he do about _this?_

Andy walked over to a guardrail that was a little higher than he was tall, and he leaned against it morosely, unable to stop watching the workers. He had already done most of his menial little tasks and was left with little else to do. He could only stand there, leaning against cold metal and yearn for his old life.

His eyes briefly flitted to the far corner of the room below him, and they locked with a familiar pair of eyes. It was that one worker again. He was removing his goggles and looking right at him.

Andy wasn't sure what to do. Did he report him for unwarranted goggle-removing? Was that a thing? Could you get in trouble for that? Was it even worth _getting_ him in trouble for it? How would this guy react to having that on his employee review? Do these people even _get _an employee review?

All these thoughts momentarily distracted him from the fact that the man was heading in his direction. Momentarily panicked, Andy immediately turned and entered Sherman's office.

The little hamster looked up in surprise at the unexpected entry. He sighed heavily when he saw who it was. "Okay, what's destroying your integrity now?" he demanded irritably.

"There's a guy coming up to see me," Andy said frantically.

"… And?"

"One of the guys from the _workforce _is coming up to see me!"

Sherman blinked. "Oh… Which one?"

"I don't know which one! That's the whole point of the jumpsuits and goggles – so they all look the same so you don't get attached to them! Now I feel guilty and sick again!"

Sherman rubbed his eyes. "Well, is he still coming up?"

There was a rattle at the doorknob that made them both freeze.

"I'd say that's a yes," Andy replied nervously.

"Well, don't panic," Sherman said firmly, scurrying across his big desk towards his friend. "If he's a troublemaker, I'll deal with him!"

"You're a two pound hamster!"

"Ah, but I used to be a one point _five_ pound hamster. I've bulked up."

The door suddenly opened, and there was the worker with no goggles, staring down at him with his goggle-less eyes. There was a long moment as they stared at each other.

For a moment, Andy and Sherman were too shocked to react. The man's face was so familiar.

Finally, Andy found his voice. "… Klein?"

"Hello, Andy," Klein replied. "Hello, Sherman."

Sherman blinked. "Have we ever actually spoken – you and me?" he asked.

Andy ignored him. "Klein, what are you doing all the way out here?!" he demanded. "And why did you wait this long to talk to us?"

"Because the lines of convergence are converging at long last, and you and your friends must be protected."

Andy and Sherman looked at each other, unsure of what that meant.

* * *

It was late at night.

Leroy and his friends had all passed out on the floor in his living room. They had played videogames all night long. There had been a wide barrage of insults that had caused all sorts of fascinating reactions, most of which included drinking large amounts of beer and talking large amounts of smack. They all lay in heaps on the floor, probably drowning in each other's drool. It really was as creepy as it sounded.

MTM sat atop the desk, having not been moved or touched for some considerable time. He wasn't entirely bored. He had a few features that hadn't been dismantled yet that kept him entertained, and his electricity absorber still worked, so he could consume enough static to charge up his built-in television. Still, it only worked for a couple of hours before it ran out again, so he had to then spend another hour absorbing static. It wasn't fun.

It was getting to be well past midnight, and he was considering switching himself off for a while to rest his power cells. Even sentient CD players need sleep, too.

However, he couldn't help but notice the silhouette forming against the light of the kitchen. It was a tall thin figure, and MTM's sensors were still on the blink, so he couldn't use his infrared night vision to see who it was. The person stretched for a few seconds before turning and looking straight at the desk.

MTM realized it was the fellow who had been watching him a couple of days ago. He hadn't looked at him at all in the intervening time, so why now all of a sudden?

Then, the figure began to move towards him. He stepped gingerly over the slumbering gamers, being careful to avoid stepping on any of them, lest they sit up and start talking, which of course _nobody _wanted.

Finally, he was at the desk and standing over the dilapidated CD player, and he leaned in close to get a good look at it.

MTM was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable, and he got ready to zap this weirdo the exact moment he tried anything.

Then, the man spoke in a whisper. "Your sensors have been damaged, so you can't recognize me. Try searching through your memory banks for my voice instead."

This took the MTM off guard. He considered for a minute before running a download of the man's voice through his memory files, looking at them all simultaneously until he finally found the right one. He was quietly stunned by the subsequent revelation.

"Klein…?" he asked in a hushed tone, using his speech program for the first time since Calvin left for camp.

"Yes, it's me. Don't worry. You'll be repaired soon."

* * *

Socrates was still trying to enjoy himself. He had decided he would do that by going into town and getting himself a snack. There was no general store out here like there was back home, so he was forced to meander around the town until he found something. He was walking along, humming some ridiculous song that only he would know, and he was pretty much ignored by all the people on the streets.

He found himself at the ice cream parlor. There wasn't much of a crowd, so he walked right in. He approached the counter where the girl behind the counter was busying herself with wiping the coolers with a rag. He looked around, trying to get her attention by tapping on the glass, but she didn't look up, confusing him. He tried waving, but she never saw him.

Sighing to himself, he walked over to the nearest freezer and got himself a Popsicle, pulling it out and placing the proper money on the counter. He gave the girl one last chance to look up and notice him, but she continued cleaning, and he went on his way.

As soon as he was gone, she looked up and noticed the money on the counter. Looking around, she shrugged and hid it down the front of her shirt.

Unwrapping his Popsicle and tossing the wrapper in the bin, Socrates began to munch on it absently It wasn't really snapping him out of his funk. The artificial flavor helped a bit, but it wasn't quite enough. Sighing heavily, he finished it off and tossed the wooden stick in a nearby wastebasket.

As he walked away, though, he was certain he felt a strange throbbing in the middle of his head. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was enough to make him yearn for an aspirin. Massaging his temples, he decided that he would head back home and take a nap. If anything, it would give him something to do until inspiration struck for another prank.

He was just turning around to accomplish this task when he locked eyes with the unfamiliar figure from before. He was staring at him from across the street.

Socrates gulped. He pretended he hadn't noticed and finished his turn, heading towards the relative safety of his house. "I hate it when I'm stalked," he muttered. "It really puts a crimp on my day."

He proceeded to make his way down the sidewalk. Of all the people in town to pay attention to him, it had to be someone creepy. He weaved through the thickening crowd of people on the sidewalk. No one paid him any heed, so he had to work hard to dodge the legs of the adult humans that towered over him. He wished he had invested in some stilts so he could make his escape more effectively.

He looked back over his shoulder, and he noticed that the man was now on his sidewalk and walking swiftly after him. He was pushing past people, causing them some degree of inconvenience, but they never stopped him. Some glared at him, but that was it.

Socrates grumbled. "They notice _him_ but not _me_? That's unfair on _so many levels_!"

Doing his best to keep ahead, he ducked and weaved around the people until he finally found a public bench. He climbed over it and into the grass, running for his life across the park towards a fountain. He jumped up on the rim, deftly avoiding all the kids and teenagers that were playing around it – again he went unnoticed – and jumped off on the opposite side, heading for the other side of the block.

He chanced a glance back again, and he saw the man was following him. He was making a large circle around the right side of the fountain. Some people were looking at him funny, but they made no effort to stop him.

Socrates looked around frantically for some kind of escape, but in the process, he bumped into a small tree, and he went falling backwards onto his rear. This gave the man just enough time to catch up with him. By the time the tiger was rolling over to get to his feet, he found himself looking down the nozzle of some nasty-looking ray gun. The man was on the other end, glaring at him.

After a brief moment to assess the situation, Socrates cleared his throat. "Well…," he said, putting on his most winning smile. "You seem determined to meet me. Who are you?"

The man scowled. "A footman for a greater organization," he replied in a growl.

Socrates looked at the ray gun. He closed his eyes and hoped it would be quick.

* * *

Calvin sat on the bleachers, rubbing his tired eyes as he looked up at the Klein standing before him. He had just listened to a story that had confused him to no end. He could follow it well enough, but that didn't mean he couldn't still get a bit lost.

"Do you understand, Calvin?" Klein asked patiently.

"I think so…"

"Good. Recap for me so I can be sure."

"Okay… You and your brothers are actually humanoid beings from beyond the universe?"

"That's correct."

"You have been acting as guardians for this plane of reality. There used to be more of you, but now there are only six."

"Unfortunately," Klein said sadly.

"So you have been reduced to menial jobs on Earth for the past few centuries in your quest to maintain order in the universe."

"Yep."

"So… how's that been going?"

"Well… my bunion's been playing up lately…"

"Uh-huh… But why do you need to safeguard the Earth?"

"There's someone on this planet that needed our protection."

"From who?"

"The Collective…"

"The Collective? Collective of what?"

"There will be time for those explanations later, Calvin. Right now, there are more pressing matters that must be attended to."

"Such as…?"

"The retrieval of your friends. You must all be together to face the Collective. They are getting closer to the truth, and your lives are in danger."

Calvin blinked, thinking about that. He could already feel the beginnings of a plan forming in his mind. "How do I do that?" he asked.

"Come with me. I'll show you."

Klein led Calvin out of the gym, and they walked across the camp building until they finally found the lobby and walked out into the outside. They waited for a few moments, staring out into the direction of the city, which looked very pretty at night, but Calvin was confused by the lack of anything actually happening.

"What are we out here for?" he demanded.

"Wait for it…," Klein assured him.

A few seconds later, they saw a small dot on the horizon, steadily coming towards them from the city, and then Calvin felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he realized just what he was seeing. His mouth slid open in amazement as the familiar cardboard box came zooming in over his head. It made a majestic loop over their heads before coming in for an overly-dramatic landing, kicking up leaves and dirt.

Calvin couldn't help but laugh in delight at the sight. "How'd _this _get here?!"

"We are authorized to make small changes to our environment," Klein replied mysteriously. "Now get going. Recruit your friends. I will reconvene with my brothers. We will explain in greater detail."

Calvin nodded before climbing into his box. He activated the necessary controls, and before he knew it, he was slowly rising back into the air, and he set the controls for his house. He had to get back and set about solving whatever the latest mystery was. He didn't know who or what 'the Collective' was, but he knew one thing was for sure. As soon as he got his friends back, they would be kicking their collective butts.

* * *

Hobbes was trying to get comfortable. It was getting very late, and he was having trouble falling asleep in his bed of packing paper and bubble wrap. He was having trouble not popping them, for a start. Either from his weight on them, or his claws popping them, he was having definite trouble here. However, he was finally getting relaxed, and the raccoons had stopped bothering him, so he decided that life in the attic was starting to improve. Perhaps he could get used to being up here.

He was just musing on this when he heard a noise at the boarded up window. It sounded like something tapping on it. His feline senses went on full alert, illustrated by his tale suddenly poofing up. He rolled over in his little cot to see what was happening.

At the window appeared to be a person. Hobbes could recognize this because there were some fingers wrapped around one of the boards, pulling on them rather hard. Curious, the tiger cautiously prowled up to the window, all set to defend himself from his would-be-intruder. Imagine his surprise when a familiar face appeared.

It was Klein, and he was a mailman.

"Come on, Hobbes," the Klein said. "Let's get you out of here."

Hobbes blinked. He was most definitely not expecting this. "Er… Right. Let's get me out of here."

With Klein pulling on the outside and Hobbes pushing on the inside, the wooden bars on Hobbes' dusty prison finally gave way, and Hobbes found himself flying forwards and into Klein's arms, and they both found themselves tipping over backwards on the ladder. It only took Hobbes a few moments to realize his predicament, and his claws automatically extended on instinct, clutching to Klein's arms.

Despite the painful sensation of the large claws burrowing themselves in his flesh, Klein showed no indication that he was in agony, maintaining a neutral expression as they tipped over backwards, heading straight for the ground. He merely closed his eyes and concentrated.

Their fall slowed considerably until they came to a halt right above the grass, just a mere four inches away from it.

Realizing they were safe, Hobbes gingerly retracted his claws and climbed down, relieved to have the sensation of grass between his toes once again. He looked over at Klein as the man let go of the ladder and fell gently next to him, and to the tiger's surprise, the small wounds he had accidentally inflicted on his arms healed themselves neatly.

"… I'll worry about that later," he decided out loud.

"Pleased to see you out in the open, Hobbes," Klein replied. "It's cruel to keep a tiger locked up like that."

"No kidding. I haven't hunted down and devoured a small woodland creature in days. I'm famished. Changing the subject entirely, since when have you been a mailman?"

"Since I foresaw that you would need my help."

"Oh? And how did you foresee that?"

"All in good time. Calvin is on his way."

"He is? But he's at camp! His parents shipped him out! He's… He's…"

He trailed off as he looked to the horizon, and he was surprised to see that the cardboard box was flying in their direction. It was swooping in low over the neighborhood before it came in for a gentle landing right in front of them.

Calvin climbed out, looking his friend and Klein up and down. "Another one, huh?"

"Hey, Calvin," Klein replied, waving.

"Don't tell me," Hobbes sighed. "There was a Klein at the camp, too?"

"Yep," Calvin said with a nod. "Has he told you yet?"

"He's hinting vaguely at something."

Calvin finally took in the scene around him. He saw the ladder, and then he saw the broken window on the attic. "Dare I ask what happened?"

"Klein just rescued me from the attic. I was trapped."

"How'd you get trapped in the attic?"

"Your parents decided to put me there."

"What? Why? What'd you do?"

"I haven't got the faintest idea! After they dropped you off at camp, your dad started going off on some sort of tear about how you need to grow up and how we can't be friends anymore, and then they had a yard sale where they sold most of your stuff…"

"Wait, _what_?! They sold my stuff at a yard sale?!" Calvin demanded, totally shocked by this development.

"They've been acting like total jerks! The MTM got sold as well!"

"The MTM got sold?! Who to?"

"I didn't get a name. I tried to save him, but I couldn't get out of the attic, and he hasn't teleported back yet, so I'm assuming something is wrong."

"I can't believe this! How could Mom and Dad do this?! How could they just ship me off and sell my stuff? What'd I do that was so horrible that they feel the need to kick me when I'm down?"

Klein finally cleared his throat, drawing their attention towards him. "Calvin, you need to understand this. Your parents are being influenced."

Calvin raised an eyebrow. "Influenced? By who?"

"By the Collective."

"What's the Collective?" Hobbes asked.

"The other Klein told me about that," Calvin said slowly. "What's that about?"

"It will be explained once you have been reunited with your other friends. Seriously, this is one of those things where it works better as a group."

"Well, we'd better get the MTM back," Hobbes decided.

"Agreed," Calvin nodded. "Any chance you'd know where he went, O' Great and Powerful Klein?"

"I shall input the coordinates into your box," Klein replied.

* * *

MTM was feeling better than he had in days. Much to his surprise, the Klein who had found him was able to repair him back to his previous state. Every single damaged servo or hard drive had been expertly put back together as if they had never been damaged.

It was still late at night, so Klein snuck out of the house with MTM in his pocket. They walked down the cobblestone pathway until they reached the sidewalk near the mailbox.

"Five miles and counting," MTM announced.

"Good," Klein replied. "We have to link up with the other Kleins and prepare."

"Fascinating stuff, this… All those Kleins… Even I never saw it, and I have the ability to see all of time and space…"

"Yeah, we're clever like that."

"Mmmmm… Here they come…"

At that moment, they looked up and saw the cardboard box swooping down low before them. Calvin and Hobbes leaned out of the side to see them.

"Oi!" MTM shouted. "How about you stop showing off so I can come aboard?"

Calvin stuck his tongue out at the CD player shortly before slowing the box to a stop, hovering just above the MTM and Klein. As soon as they were still, MTM extended his robotic arms all the way up, grasping the edge before lifting himself out of Klein's hands and up into the box.

"Good to have you back, MTM," Calvin said. "Sorry you got sold off in a yard sale."

"I wouldn't have minded so much, but it was only five dollars! I'm pretty sure my original price was for twenty-five!"

"Well, I'll let you guys make tracks for China!" Klein called up. "We'll all meet up there!"

"Roger!" Calvin replied. "MTM, if you've got your teleporter working…"

"You want me to teleport all your other inventions over here, right?"

"You know me so well."

There was a momentary flash of electricity, and a few moments later, the hypercube landed with a neat thud in the middle of the box.

"Looks like we're set," Hobbes said.

"I've got a lock on Andy and Sherman," MTM went on. "Shall we fly away?"

"Yeah!"

The box turned around and promptly soared off into the night, heading for the other side of the planet.

* * *

Andy and Sherman sat on the opposite side of the desk, listening to Klein's explanations.

"So this 'Collective'…," Sherman was saying. "Who are they?"

"A gang of creatures from outside the universe who are determined to change everything to their way of doing things," Klein replied. "They're going to try and reshape everything into how _they _think the world should be."

"And you're only just now coming to us with this because…?" Andy asked reasonably.

"The lines of convergence are only just now starting to zero in on us. They have been trying to slow us down for some time now, but we've managed to figure out how to get around them. We just need to wait for Calvin and Hobbes to get here so we can begin our plans."

"Well, how long before they get here?" Sherman asked.

Klein checked his watch. "Any second now, really…"

And wouldn't you know it – just a few seconds later, there was a big ball of electricity that appeared in the air above them, and the cardboard box burgeoned into existence over them with Calvin, Hobbes and the MTM all safely inside. They all peered over the edge at their friends below.

"What took you so long?" Sherman asked dryly.

"We flew over two hundred miles before we remembered we could teleport here," Hobbes replied irritably.

"I'm still recharging my memory cells after being ripped apart by a nerd with all the social skills of a gnat," MTM said defensively.

The box touched down on the floor. Calvin climbed out to take in the room. "Nice office, Sherman. Not a patch on your lab, though."

"True," Sherman agreed with a shrug.

"So…," Andy said slowly. "Looks like 'six months' wasn't as long as we thought it was…"

"Looks like it," Calvin said, feeling a small smile splitting across his face as he reunited with his friends.

"Yeah, this is nice," Hobbes said, "but we'd better go pick up Socrates next."

Sherman shook his head. "No such thing as a nice moment around here…"

"I'm afraid Socrates is unavailable," Klein announced, reminding them all he was in the room.

They all turned to look at him. "What do you mean?" Andy asked.

Klein pointed at the MTM.

To their surprise, MTM started vibrating on the desk, slowly moving around across the surface. "I'm getting a phone call from California," he announced.

"Socrates is calling us?" Calvin asked, reaching over and popping open the CD player's lid. "Hello?"

"Calvin, it's Elliot! I need your help!"

"Elliot? What is it? What's going on?" Then something occurred to Calvin. "How'd you even get this number?"

"It's on Socrates' phone. Calvin, you've got to help me!"

Calvin exchanged glances with his friends. They were confused by the amount of panic in Elliot's voice. He was usually very reserved and laidback.

"What happened?" Calvin asked.

"Socrates has been missing all day. I haven't got a clue where he is. You've got to help me find him!"

* * *

There was a bright light shining in his eyes the moment he opened them.

Socrates blinked heavily, squinting at his new environment. After the laser had shot him, he'd expected that to be the end of him. No sign of any friends with blonde hair or talking hamsters or world-saving CD players to be seen. The odds of him dying right there had been very real.

So at the moment, blinding white light made him feel really good.

After a few moments of heavy blinking and squinting, he managed to focus on his current location. He was rather looking forward to looking at it.

It was a room, as it happened. It was a room with no visible doors that he could see. Just stark white walls that were so bright he had to continue squinting to look at them. That led to the question of how he got here in the first place if there was nowhere to enter.

"Hello…"

Socrates looked up at the sound of a voice. He looked ahead through the brightness and realized that the man who fired the laser was right here, probably no more than six feet away from him. He was wearing the same clothes as before and sporting his previous sinister expression. The only thing truly remarkable about him was the fact that he wasn't chasing him anymore.

"You…," Socrates whispered. "How'd you get in here? There aren't any doors… For that matter, how did _I _get in here?!"

"Do not overexcite yourself," the man replied. "Allow me to slip into something more… comfortable…"

He closed his eyes, apparently going into some sort of trance. A few seconds later, his entire form seemed to glow a dull yellow color that enveloped him entirely. It took a little while, but eventually, the glow died away, and in the man's place was a tall purple humanoid alien with compound eyes. His expression remained neutral, but he rolled his head around on his neck to stretch the kinks out.

Socrates stared, trying not to show how perturbed he was by this. "Who are you…?" he demanded.

"Who I am is not important," the purple alien said. "It's _you_ who are important."

"Why? What makes me so important?"

"Because… you have a _thing _in your head…"


	9. The Power of the Equation

Elliot fidgeted awkwardly in his chair in Sherman's office. They had teleported him over from California to interrogate him more thoroughly. They all stood in a circle around him, save for Klein, who stood in the back of the room, apparently in some sort of trance. They had given up trying to talk to him, so they focused on their friend instead.

"So how long did you wait before you called us?" Hobbes asked.

"About three hours," Elliot replied nervously. "He never leaves without telling me. Sometimes, he disappears for days at a time, but he always tells me he's going. He even leaves texts and tweets and instant messages giving me vague hints to keep me guessing, but this time, I haven't heard a word from him."

"He does that to you, too?" Andy asked, not sounding very surprised.

"So where could he go? Does he have any hangouts in California?" Calvin asked.

"Not that I know of. He's been hanging out around the house a lot. He hasn't had any time to establish himself around town."

"A social leper like Socrates? That's unusual…," Sherman remarked.

"You know what really strikes _me_ as unusual?" Calvin asked.

"What's that?" Hobbes asked.

"Socrates goes missing off the face of the planet as soon as we were all in far-flung locations across the planet. Andy and Sherman in China, him and Elliot in California, me at camp, MTM at Leroy's and Hobbes in the attic – isn't it just a bit convenient that he should go missing right when we're all separated?"

They all looked at each other, slowly beginning to realize what he was saying.

"You think someone orchestrated these events?" Andy suggested.

"It's a possibility we may have to consider…"

"Remember what happened when we fought that cloud of steam from the void?" Hobbes piped up. "It said 'they are coming for your tail'."

"Right…," Calvin murmured. "I think we're finally going to find out what the heck that's about."

"Took long enough," Sherman grumbled.

"What are you guys talking about?" Elliot asked.

"We heard a prophecy that said that Socrates' red-striped tail was significant for something," Andy explained. "We've been waiting to see what it's about, but nothing's happened until now."

Elliot stared at them all incredulously. "… Why is this the first time I'm hearing about this?" he asked.

Andy blinked. "Er… I don't… we didn't…," he stammered before rounding on Calvin. "Yeah, why didn't _you_, Calvin?"

Calvin glared at him.

* * *

Socrates was confused. "Why is this the first time I'm hearing about this?" he demanded. "What 'thing' are you talking about? What thing in my head?"

The tall purple alien towered over him. "You have a thing… that has been with you all your life. It was with you upon your birth – your very creation. And now it is time for us to claim it for our own…"

Socrates was beginning to feel like his old self – being confronted by a weird alien was really beginning to cheer him up. "I'll have you know that I have no knowledge of any such 'thing in my head'! I demand access to a phone so I can call my lawyer! I'm taking you to the Supreme Court!"

The alien didn't react to his strangeness. He just continued staring at him.

Socrates frowned. His usual shtick wasn't working. "… Okay…"

"We've been waiting for you, red-tailed tiger," the alien murmured. "We planted the seed… and we want it back… We shall extract it from your head…"

Socrates rubbed the top of his skull. "I… What do you mean by 'extract'? Are you about to perform surgery on me? I haven't even spoken with a physician! Don't you need a second opinion? Is it covered by my HMO?"

"Oh, not to worry, feline… We have more effective methods than mere surgical equipment…"

And he advanced on Socrates before he had a chance to react.

* * *

"So you seriously can't pinpoint Socrates _anywhere_?" Hobbes asked the MTM.

"I've extended my scanner to the absolute maximum, and I _still_ can't detect him," the CD player replied.

"Well, how far is 'absolute maximum'?" Andy asked.

"The entirety of the universe."

"Oh… Yeah, okay, that's pretty definitive…"

"So if we can't locate him, how the heck are we supposed to travel to him?" Elliot demanded.

"Perhaps _we _can be of assistance," Klein suddenly said.

They all turned around. Imagine their surprise when they saw six Kleins all standing in the room with them. One was dressed as a camp counselor, one as a mailman, one as a factory worker, one as an ordinary guy, one as a music teacher and one in front, wearing a completely white suit.

This Klein walked forward, straightening his milk-white waistcoat. "Gentlemen," he said in a firm but gentle voice, "we have arrived."

Taking a moment to regain their composure, the gang surrounded the Kleins, looking them over with curiosity.

"So…," Calvin said slowly. "You've… arrived… from _where _precisely?"

"From our reality outside the universe," the 'Head' Klein explained. "We exist in a world between the main universe and the void, as do the Collective exist in their own."

"Bubble universe…," Sherman murmured. "Unless I miss my guess, that's where Socrates is right now…"

"Precisely."

"So why have they taken him?" Calvin asked. "Do they want the transmitter?"

"No, nothing so trivial. It is something _more_ they are after."

"Wait, what transmitter?" Elliot asked.

"The transmitter / receiver ship we implanted in his brain," Sherman explained before faltering. "The one that… you… didn't… know… about… Oops…"

"You implanted a computer chip in Socrates' brain?!" Elliot demanded. "Why would you do that?! Why didn't you even tell me?"

Calvin shifted uncomfortably. "Because… you would've… made us take it out, and we've kind of needed…"

"It's not like it's dangerous!" Hobbes assured him.

"Except for the few times where it nearly killed him," MTM pointed out.

"What?!"

"Can we steer ourselves back on topic, please?" Andy asked urgently.

"Yeah," Calvin agreed, ignoring Elliot's indignant glare. "Klein – who is the Collective that's captured Socrates?"

The Head Klein cleared his throat. "They are known as the Chill Collective."

At this, everyone in the room balked openly.

"The _Chill_ Collective?!" Hobbes exclaimed.

"Wait a minute – since when do Rupert and Earl have a _Collective_?" Sherman demanded.

"Those aliens are too disorganized to form a _bridge club_, let alone a Collective!" Andy snorted.

Calvin, however, thought for a moment. "Wait a minute…," he murmured. "I've just remembered something… I tried asking Rupert about this when we were on the cruise ship, but he didn't answer me…"

"What's that?" Hobbes asked.

"When I was undercover on Zok, I learned about how Rupert came to power. He over threw the original king in a pitched battle that saw the original Zokian Empire fall to him. Here's the thing, though – it says that Rupert arrived on Zok on a ship from a distant galaxy. It left blank where this galaxy was, and my attempt to locate it proved inconclusive. I asked him who he really was."

"He was a deserter from the Collective," the Head Klein explained. "He was originally one of them. He decided he wanted the universe for himself and abandoned them, altering his own genetic makeup so he could live on Zok instead."

"Wow…," Andy murmured. "You think you know a guy…"

"And it turns out he's had plastic surgery all this time," Sherman finished.

"Isn't it a bit convenient that he was the only dissenter, and we've been fighting him all this time?" Hobbes asked.

Calvin snapped his fingers. "Wait a minute! Remember our excursion to the Death Zone? What do you remember about it?"

Hobbes, Andy, Sherman and the MTM all thought about it for a moment.

"It was really random?"

"It was unimaginative."

"Hackneyed, really."

"Had no place in our continuity…"

"No! Come on!" Calvin snapped. "Remember John Howard Chill?"

"The camp councilor?"

"No, the _alien _John Howard Chill who brought us to the Death Zone in the first place! He said the Chill family was special for some reason before he got turned in a living statue! Was he a member of the Collective, too?"

"Most likely," the Head Chill replied. "He clearly kept to himself, though, instead of taking over a planet to rule."

"How many are left?" Sherman asked.

"The main bulk remains, although there were never many to start with. At least ten…"

"You're not sure?" asked Elliot.

"It's been a while since we've seen them. We don't get together very much."

"So what do they want – universal domination?" Calvin asked.

"Oh, they already did that."

Silence greeted this announcement.

"Come again?" Hobbes asked warily.

"They have been working to gain the ability to control the universe with advanced mathematics. They want the ability to control all of reality through completed the very equation needed to do so."

"Really?" Andy asked. "Math that can control reality?"

"Fascinating concept…," Sherman murmured. "If you follow the correct equation, you can split an atom…"

"So if you follow the right _bigger_ equation, you can control the universe?" Hobbes asked.

Calvin rolled his eyes. "Great. The universe is in danger of being controlled by a bunch of nerds."

"They eventually did discover the correct equation," the Head Klein continued. "They had the very building blocks of the entire universe in their grasp."

"And they goofed up royally, didn't they?" Hobbes guessed.

"The entire universe found out about it. It didn't take long for many universal wars to start. Naturally, the Chills were not willing to share their discovery, and they wanted to ensure that they would not lose their power. We did our best to stop them, and many of our kind were lost in battle, but we captured the equation before they could do too much with it. We preprogrammed it into a single genus cell and flung it out into the universe to land on a planet, where it would later grow and evolve into a higher life form over millions of years until finally, at long last, it would finally become fully-fledged into the head of a single animal."

Sherman nodded. "So the species became tigers…"

"And the tiger became Socrates…," MTM added.

"That equation is locked away in his mind," Hobbes murmured. "We saw it once when we journeyed into his mind. That doorway that wouldn't fade away…"

"If the Chill Collective can get it back, they will be able to control the universe," the Head Klein said with a nod.

"Hence the red stripes. They make him stand out," Calvin said.

"The Chills still have a tiny part of the equation. They still have a minimal amount of control over the universe."

"Oh, yeah? In what way?"

"Just the tiniest bits of chaos here and there…"

"Such as?"

"How old are you, Calvin?"

Calvin blinked, thrown by the abrupt change of topic. "Six, why?"

"What year is it now?"

"2014."

"And what year were you born?"

Calvin opened his mouth to speak, but then he stopped, rolling the confusion around in his head, trying to figure out what was wrong. He knew the year, and he wanted to say it, but for some reason, he just couldn't reconcile the number with reality. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, waiting to see what he would say.

Finally, he found himself uttering the truth he had been unaware of for nearly thirty years.

"I was born in 1979… I'm six years old, and I was born nearly thirty-five years ago…"

His friends stared at him in stunned silence.

Calvin looked at the Head Klein, his eyes full of fear. "What have they done…?"

"The Chill Collective has suspended your section of time. While time moves forward and everyone else ages on the planet, you and everyone associated with you have not aged since the '80s."

Andy swallowed. "I… I was born in 1997…," he stammered. "And… when I met Calvin and Hobbes in 2005, I stopped aging."

Hobbes was so stunned by these revelations that he had to sit down.

Calvin swallowed. "Well…," he said at last. "This would explain why I've always seemed more mature than you…"

Everyone glared at him.

"But why would they do this?" Sherman managed to ask. "Why make us not age? What's the point?"

"Because you were destined to be associated with Socrates," the Head Klein replied. "They have placed you all in a floating timeline to ensure that Socrates would remain young and strong. If he aged normally, his brain cells would eventually decay, and the equation would be worthless to them."

Elliot was reeling from this shock as much as they were, but he was still able to regain control of his brain before anyone else with one thought in his mind, overriding everything else. "So how do we get to Socrates?"

"There's a chance… but we must act quickly, before they attempt to access the equation."

Calvin shook his head. "If they've already got him, and they've waited this long, I would imagine they've already started."

* * *

"We are ready to begin," the purple alien – whose name was Jangadod – declared.

Socrates was strapped to a table now. He had a large metallic device over his head that crackled with electricity. It was making his head feel abnormally warm.

"I'm always getting hooked up to these great big electrical doodads," he muttered.

More aliens were in the room now. They were all of various species with different skin colors from purple to yellow to plaid. Some were several feet tall while others were barely a foot. They were like a wacky neighborhood of misfits.

The one thing they all had in common was the fact they were all wearing badges that had the letter "C" on them.

"We shall extract the thing…," another alien announced. "Prepare the extraction device!"

"How inventive," Socrates grumbled. "How is this more advanced than surgery?"

"You're about to find out," Jangadod smiled.

In that moment, the helmet slowly began to lower towards him.

Socrates swallowed as it began to envelope his head. "Help…," he whimpered. "Cry for help…"

* * *

**Author's Note: **_And with that, we wait for the next chapter..._


	10. The Anger of a Child

It had been an entire week.

Socrates woke up in his cell. It was very basic with only the barest of essentials to keep him alive. The food they gave him was flavorless but nutritional, putting him in mind of eating kale salad. Water poured out through the sink in the corner, allowing him to drink as well as bathe himself. There was just something about self-grooming that put him off. He had a small mat in the opposite corner to stretch out on and sleep, and the past seven nights had been thoroughly fitful and unpleasant.

They had attempted to get to the 'thing' in his head nine times now, and no doubt today would be attempt number ten. He finished his breakfast and washed his mouth out in the sink, and he was just contemplating doing some pushups to kill time when the room suddenly dissolved, and he found himself in the room with the table and the machine again.

Sighing knowingly, he held his arms out as he allowed himself to be apprehended and carried over to the table. He was strapped down with metal clamps around his wrists, ankles and torso. "Time again, fellas?" he asked, raising his eyebrow at them in a droll manner. "Take your time. The blank wall in my cell is a rerun tonight."

"We will extract that thing eventually, tiger," one alien with six eyes and four arms said. "We know it's there. We _will _get it out."

"For your sakes, I hope so. You keep talking about this 'Collective'. These guys are going to be plenty angry if you don't get this whatsit out of my noggin soon."

"We are aware of that," an alien with three compound eyes and sharp teeth hissed. "Our superiors are still asleep… We can't let them see us like this!"

Socrates blinked. "Like what?" he asked.

"Failing!" another alien snapped. "We can't let them see us failing so horribly! They chose us especially for this job! They mustn't know how dreadfully we've botched their plans!"

"Fascinating…," the tiger sighed, when, in actuality, he didn't find it very anymore.

"Hook him up! We're trying again!"

Socrates felt the machine hooking up to his head. He sighed heavily as it raced through his brain. He knew what to expect at this point. It didn't hurt. He was barely even aware that anything was happening. He was just bored of it all at this point.

"Find it!" Jangadod growled. "FIND THE CURSED CELL! FIND IT!"

"You know, if you would just fill me in on what precisely it is you want to know, I might be inclined to tell you where it is…," Socrates spoke up.

"Oh, you know _nothing_," an alien with buckteeth grumbled. "You're just the carrier for it."

"Oh yeah? What is it then?"

"The equation that will give our superiors the power over the universe."

"How interesting," Socrates remarked. "I'd have to say I've not been aware of that. I think you've got the wrong tiger."

"Ohh, we _wish_!" a female alien with large eyes and a spiky tail snapped. "The red stripes confirm it's you! You're the one that the lines of convergence zeroed in on! We know perfectly well you're the tiger we need! Such is our luck!"

Socrates sniffed. "I've decided _not _to be offended by that remark."

At that moment, a shorter orange-skinned creature with twelve eyes, four arms and eight legs ran into the room. He motioned to Jangadod to stop the machine. Irritated, Jangadod did so, disconnecting the machine and allowing Socrates to focus on the real world once again.

"What now?!" Jangadod demanded.

"The Kleins are here! They wish for an audience between our leader and theirs!"

Shocked silence greeted this. Everyone looked at the little fellow in trepidation.

Socrates looked up. "Klein… What's that?"

Jangadod didn't seem to hear him. "They haven't spoken to us in decades… How could they want to bother with negotiations now?"

The shorter alien shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you… We must alert Mangus."

Jangadod nodded quietly. He addressed the few aliens to his left. "Keep an eye on him," he ordered.

The other aliens nodded in acceptance.

Socrates watched as Jangadod left the room, disappearing down a corridor. He remembered something. "Wait a minute… There was a Klein on Earth who worked a movie theater… and one who worked at the art museum! You don't mean _them_, do you?"

But no one paid him any heed.

* * *

Jangadod hurried up a stairwell towards a room he knew very well but rarely entered. So really, he only knew the door in front of it very well. He was perfectly all right with that. It was a door that led into the room of their leader, Mangus.

Mangus was technically an underling like the rest of them, but he was still leader of the underlings. He was in charge of making sure everyone else was doing his or her job while he maintained an air of elusiveness. It was a job no one else wanted anyway, so he was more or less accepted in this position. They left him to it while they did the real work.

Of course, his official job was to be the spokesman for the Collective. They delegated their orders through him. He was the one they spoke to about what they wanted to have done. It was not a desirable job.

Still, if there were anyone egocentric enough to want the job, it was Mangus. Someone as cold and calculating as him was destined for such a job where he got to assign orders. It wasn't exactly something you could do if you were small and humble. If your bosses were the most powerful beings in the history of forever, you'd have to have an unshakeable belief that you were capable of doing it.

Jangadod knocked at on the door. He knew he would have to wait a few moments before anything happened. Mangus was always making him wait.

After a solid seven seconds passed, a smaller door opened up, putting one in mind of a speakeasy bouncer checking for a password. "What do you want?" a raspy voice hissed.

"It's the Kleins, Mangus. They request an audience with you."

There was a long pause.

The little door finally slid shut, and the big door creaked open.

Mangus stepped outside, revealing himself to be a long reedy pale alien with a bulbous head, thin fingers with large claws and yellow teeth that probably weren't meant to be yellow.

"What…?" he hissed. "But they haven't spoken to us in decades…"

"I know, Mangus, but they're here."

"Are you _sure_…?"

"Sharfned saw them himself."

"Ned?! You're going by _his _word?"

"He's got twelve eyes. They can't _all _be wrong. Now go meet with them."

Mangus growled and straightened his uniform. He adjusted the badge that had the golden letter 'C' on it. With no other choice, he turned and brushed haughtily past Jangadod and stalked down the stairs.

"The only one for the job…," he said with a long-suffering sigh.

He ignored the snort of derision coming from behind him.

* * *

The conference room was a long dark room with a long table between the two occupants.

Mangus was on one end, and the Head Klein was on the other end. The former was hunched over, elbows rudely on the table, long thin fingers interlaced and as menacing an expression as he could muster. The latter was leaned back with nice posture with his hands on the tabletop, relaxed, cool and calm.

The conversation was going slowly.

"So… manipulated any life forms lately?" the Head Klein asked casually.

"… Turned an entire species into butterscotch last Wednesday…," Mangus replied, trying to make it sound like it was no big deal.

They sat in silence a few moments longer before Klein finally leaned forward and steered the conversation towards business.

"Well, you know why I'm here," he said in an authoritative tone.

"You want the equation."

"I want the _tiger_ who happens to have the equation."

Mangus snorted. "Oh, like you wouldn't use it yourself if you had the chance…"

"I _have _had the chance. My brothers and I have been in regular contact with Socrates for years now."

"Pfft! You didn't even know it was _him_! We only found out recently ourselves!"

"… Okay, so we're not all knowing. Whatever."

Mangus smirked. "So now that you're here, what are you going to do?"

"I want that tiger back, Mangus."

"And what are you going to do if I don't?"

"Oh, it's not what _I'm_ going to do. It's what _Calvin _is going to do."

"Who…? Oh, the boy! Right… What about him? What's he going to do?"

"Heaven knows. All I know is that he's aware of what you've done."

"What does _he _want with the equation?"

"He doesn't. It's Socrates he's after."

"What?"

Klein tutted sadly. "You don't realize what you've done, do you? You've practically given him an excuse to go medieval on you, as they say on Earth."

"I've seen the boy and his little gang. He's a tiny little speck even by his planet's standards. No one knows of him. He's not renowned for any special skills. All we found was something called 'the Noodle Incident', and he claims he had nothing to do with it…"

Klein raised an eyebrow. "So you only researched him on Earth?"

Mangus glared at him. "Why shouldn't I? Humans haven't got perfected space travel…"

"Only because they are too limited as a species, but the boy… Calvin knows no limits. If you had bothered to do a _complete _research, you would've found that he's personably responsible for saving the entire planet of Annkor. Saved them from the deranged beings of Plantor V."

"Oh yeah? How'd he do that?"

"He manipulated the Plantonians into slowly destroying themselves."

Something about that revelation made Mangus's eye twitch. "… Okay, so he destroyed _one _planet…," he said, trying to maintain his cool.

"He was once escaped from an alternate dimension designed specifically to destroy _him_."

"Well, whoop-dee-doo for him…"

"He helped to ensure that John Howard Chill was condemned to live out his eternity as a living statue."

Mangus was brought up short for a moment. "… He… he took out one of the Collective?" he whispered.

"And he continues to battle Rupert…"

"Rupert took over a tenth of the universe on his own… We were always going to flick him aside once the Collective woke up…"

"Calvin's got a head start on you."

Mangus fumbled for a comeback. "Well… uh… he's still got to defeat the rest of the Collective! So he took on two of them _separately_! He's still got to beat the rest of them simultaneously!"

"What, you think he's going to do that on his own? You think he's that stupid?"

Mangus froze. "What are you saying?"

Klein simply smiled curtly. "He's made friends, Mangus… Friends and enemies… All of them have one thing in common: they don't want the Collective to take over reality."

Mangus disguised his unease by standing up snottily. "He's still only one little child. If you think he's your champion, good luck to you. It's him versus us."

Klein nodded, likewise standing up, putting his hands in his pockets. "Yes, one little child…," he said evenly, "and there is nothing more dangerous and irrational than the anger of a child."

And on that cryptic note, he turned around and left the room, whistling a jaunty version of 'Death Comes to Saul'.

Mangus twitched again before turning and going out the opposite room.

* * *

The days passed.

Socrates was trotted out in front of the machine every day, twice a day, and would spend one hour being placed under it, strapped to the table, and his entire brain was scanned for the equation, but they couldn't get it out. No one could figure out what the problem was, and they were getting really ticked off in the process.

Mangus was now taking part in the procedure, but he wasn't used to actually doing real work. He grumbled and whined incessantly about everything that didn't go his way. The other creatures working with him were thoroughly unimpressed, and they had to clean up after him whenever he threw a tantrum and broke something.

As it happened, the whole thing was distressing them, and many of them were beginning to feel it was time to do something about it. Mangus was proving to be such an irritating blowhard that they were all set to just chuck him outside and stick him with an unemployment slip.

Finally, they decided there was only one thing for it.

Mangus was kicking the machine in frustration one morning when a few other aliens came up to him. Socrates was laid out on the table, trying not to look terribly amused by the incompetence of these clowns.

"That's right," he was saying. "Keep at it. Show that hunk of junk who's boss!"

"Shut up!" Mangus shouted. "Don't you dare talk to me like that, you worthless lump of fur! Know your place! I'm your superior in every sense of the word!"

Socrates noticed the aliens in the room. "So which one of us did you come here to kill?" he asked them pleasantly.

"We're not sure yet," muttered the female alien with the long nose and wile yellow hair.

Mangus noticed them, and he didn't see any reason to look embarrassed. "Look, we can't get the rotten equation out of his head! I give up! We'll just have to create a false story and say he was killed in an industrial accident, playing with scissors, drinking lighter fluid and jaywalking!"

The aliens all stared at him for a long throbbing moment, but at last, the purple one approached him. "Mangus… not that having you take a much more active part in our activities hasn't just been _oodles _of fun, but frankly, we're beginning to think that the problem here isn't the machine."

Mangus rounded on him. "What are you saying?! Are you saying it's _me_? I'm the problem?! Is that it?! I'll have you know that I'm in charge of talking to the Collective! I'm the one who has to deal with speaking with them! I have to take this supervisory role all on my own, you ingrates!"

Jangadod nodded. "Well, that's good, because you need to tell them to wake up."

Mangus staggered backwards, leaning against the table in horror. "What?! No! You can't make me! No! I won't do it!"

Everyone stared at him.

Socrates cleared his throat. "Why do you need to talk to the Collective?" he asked innocently.

"Because we can't figure out what the problem is," an alien with large feet and neatly-combed blue hair explained. "We've done all we can. Now we need to talk to the Chills about this. They're our only hope now."

"We can't!" Mangus cried. "Then they'll know that I failed!"

"_You _failed?" Jangadod snapped. "You haven't done a darn thing except scream at the machine and break it!"

"You don't understand! You don't know the responsibilities I carry!"

"You just told us," Socrates pointed out reasonably. "You're the go-between for these guys and the Collective."

"We're waking them up, Mangus, and that's that," Jangadod sighed.

Mangus growled angrily, but Socrates smiled pleasantly. "Go for it!" he encouraged them. "I want to see these guys for myself! Come on, Mangus! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it!"

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Mangus finally snapped. "Fine! Bring them in here! See if I care! _You're _the ones who have to explain how badly _you've _failed!"

After taking a moment to let everyone roll their eyes and otherwise express their ire, Jangadod turned and left the room, presumably to fetch the Collective.

"So…," Socrates said slowly, taking in the unpleasant expressions. "Nice people, the Chills?"

"You are in _so _much trouble," Mangus growled.

"So are you," Socrates replied. "I'm quickly getting the impression you're not very popular around here."

Mangus simply sneered and focused on a spot on the floor. Socrates followed his eyeline, uncertain as to what he was looking at. In fact, the more he looked around, the more he noticed that _everyone _was looking at the spot on the floor.

Then, without any lights or electricity or special effects of any sort, the Chills appeared in the room. Well, sort of. They were seven cryogenic chambers that took up a huge section of the room. They were dripping with some sort of fluid, presumably melted frost.

"Looks like they didn't keep very well," Socrates said, eyeing the growing puddle on the floor.

"They're defrosting, dummy," Mangus hissed. "Now shush – they shall emerge within a few moments, and then you are all in _so much trouble_!"

No one paid him any heed. Jangadod came walking back into the room. "They're on their way out."

"Can't wait," Socrates grinned. "Think I'll get autograph?"

Any possible retort was interrupted by the sound of seven locks being undone. Huge clouds of dramatic steam poured out as the doors all swung open in perfect unison. Everyone watched in amazement and serious trepidation while they waited for some sort of sign of life.

Then, some tentacles started to emerge from the stasis chambers. They weren't like those that belonged to the aliens of Zok, which were scaly yet fairly smooth. These were slimy and oozing some sort of fluid that made the usually unflappable Socrates feel a bit ill. His eyes widened as the creatures on the other end revealed themselves.

They were all identical in appearance, although they varied in size. They all slithered out of the chambers, wearing blank expression on their gelatinous bodies, staring right into Socrates' eyes with their own dark yellow compound eyes – which never blinked, making them look even more deranged.

Socrates was lost for a quip.

After a tense pause that gave the dramatic steam time to dissolve into nothing, the shortest Chill – who was still about five foot ten – uttered his first words in about three or four centuries. "… Why have we been awakened ahead of schedule?" he growled.

Mangus knew they were talking to him, so he came forward, trying to regain whatever confidence he might have lost. "Your Eminence…," he stammered. "We have acquired the creature that holds the equation in his mind. This is it right here. It's a feline known as a tiger. We've found him."

The Chills did not react. They merely stared straight ahead at Socrates, who attempted a cheery smile, but he felt a bit nauseous just looking at them. They didn't look friendly or stupid or even vicious. They just looked ominous, and something about that just made it worse.

Mangus cleared his three throats and continued talking. "Er… Unfortunately, we can't seem to actually… _extract_… the equation. It appears to be stuck in his head somewhere… We can't get the equipment to work… and no one here seems to know how to actually _do _anything."

The other aliens glared at Mangus.

The Chills, however, still continued to stare ahead at Socrates, never blinking and apparently not even breathing. It was really putting him off.

Finally, the Chill nearest the front slithered forwards and took a long look at the red-tailed tiger.

"There is an obstruction," he said in a thick gravelly voice. "We must find it… and remove it…"

"How do we do that?" Mangus asked meekly.

Jangadod cleared his throat. "Well…," he said awkwardly, "if it's a physical obstruction, we can try and _surgically remove it_."

Mangus looked at him for a long moment before he readdressed the Collective. "Your Eminence, I've had an idea! If it's a physical obstruction, we can try and surgically remove it!"

The Chills still didn't look at him. They just kept looking at Socrates. One of them did speak up, however. "Yes… Yes, we shall… Good plan, Jangadod."

Mangus stared at them incredulously before glaring furiously at the pleased Jangadod. "How _dare _you steal my idea?!" he snapped.

But no one paid the loser any heed as they set to work surrounding the table Socrates was laid out on.

"So… what's the deal, exactly?" Socrates asked.

"Just sit tight," another alien with two heads and five noses. "We're just putting you up on the rack."

Someone pushed a button, and Socrates found himself and his table changing angles from horizontal to vaguely vertical. He felt the clamps around his wrists and ankles tightening to hold him in place. He looked up and saw that one of the taller aliens was holding a small flat device to his head.

"What's that thing?" he asked.

"It will not hurt," the creature replied. "It will merely explain to us what the obstruction in your brain is."

Socrates blinked. "Oh, it's an X-ray! Well, why didn't you just say so?"

A long red dot emitted from the machine, running up and down the tiger's head, and after getting a full scan, the tiger's flesh disappeared, leaving behind a cat skull, which was subsequently stripped away to reveal his brain underneath, and then this was removed layer by layer.

Despite this, Socrates and his voice were unimpaired. "Nope, didn't feel a thing," he said brightly.

"I see it," the alien said at last. "It appears to be a computer chip of some sort."

"A what?"

Jangadod took a look at the small device wedged into the tiger's brain. "I see it. What is that? It looks like some sort of transmitting and receiving chip."

You couldn't tell, but Socrates blinked in confusion. "What? What are you talking about?"

The X-Ray was switched off, restoring his face to normal and revealing the confusion on his face.

"You appear to have some sort of computer chip lodged within your brain, and it must be what's interfering with the equipment," Jangadod explained. "It must have some sort of program that protects it and the rest of the brain from being tampered with."

Socrates looked incredibly lost. "What chip? What program? What's going on?!"

The creatures all looked at him intently.

"… You don't even know about it," Jangadod murmured. "Curious… Who did this to you?"

"Well, if I knew that…"

"Oh, this is ridiculous!" Mangus snapped. "If that's what's causing the problem, let's fix it!"

"Okay then, genius – any suggestions?" Jangadod sneered.

"Well, can't we remove the chip?"

"… I suppose, but we'll need to be very careful in doing so as to not damage his brain cells. It may damage the equation."

At that moment, a little gray alien with six long legs and a long pointy nose came running into the room. He was carrying something over his head like a fruit basket. "Look what I found! Look what I found!" he chanted.

Everyone turned to look at him.

"What is it?" a taller orange alien with yellow eyes and a tail growing out of his right ear.

"Oh, it's nothing important," Mangus grumbled. "Take it away, you."

The short gray alien put it down on the floor in the light for all to see. They all stared at it in wonderment, realizing the significance.

"It's a box," said Jangadod.

"A cardboard box," added Socrates, recognizing it instantly.

The Collective said nothing. They just stared ahead at the box with their unblinking eyes, thinking.

"The one that belongs to the boy…," another alien said.

"The Earthling who defeated the Plantonians…"

"The kid who once sent three void feeders back to their home dimension by squirting mustard on them…"

Mangus hissed furiously. "Oh, I don't care _what _he's done! He's just some kid who's gotten overconfident, that's all! He still has to get past us!"

Jangadod cleared his throat. "Well… his _box_ got past us…"

Mangus looked at him for a long moment, trying to figure out a worthy comeback.

The short gray alien looked inside the box. "Maybe we can stop him with this!" he suggested, pulling out a small water pistol.

Socrates' eyes widened. It was the Transmogrifier Gun. If he could just get his paws on it, he could escape.

"Oh, that thing's nothing important," he said quickly. "It's just a water gun. Only squirts water."

The alien looked disappointed. "That's it? Why has the most powerful boy in the entire universe got a dinky little weapon?"

Another creature with red fur and razor-sharp teeth shook his head. "He's not the most powerful boy in the universe. He's just got always got a plan."

Yet another creature spoke up. "So if this is his transport, where is _he_?"

Jangadod nodded thoughtfully. "We'll have to run a security scan on the entire complex. He could be anywhere."

"And then, we'll use his own weapons against him!" the red furred creature suggested snatching away the Transmogrifier Gun. "Let's see if it really _is _just a water pistol!"

Socrates tried not to look _too _utterly terrified. "No, wait a minute! You'll… get us all wet!"

But it was already too late. The red-furred creature was already pointing the gun at an alien with yellow scales and orange spots, and he squeezed the trigger. There was a bright flash as a zap of energy torpedoed into the creature and struck him, forcing him backwards, and his entire DNA structure was rewritten into a new form.

Everyone jumped back in surprise, shielding their eyes and dropping into a mild panic.

"Just a water pistol, eh?" Jangadod said, glaring at Socrates.

"A really… _powerful_… water pistol," Socrates replied evenly.

"What's happened? What's he been turned into?" the little gray alien cried.

"It's hideous!" Mangus cried. "What monstrosity is this?!"

"I resent that," Andy snorted, getting up and dusting himself off.

Socrates boggled in amazement. "Wait a minute… Andy? Is it really you?"

Suddenly, the alien with red fur fired on the little gray alien, and in another flash, he was transformed back into his true form – Sherman.

Feeling better than he had in days, Socrates wished he could get up and hug them. "Guys, you're here!"

"Where else would we be?" Sherman replied.

There was another blast from the Transmogrifier Gun that turned the alien with a tail in its ear back into Hobbes, who immediately went into a series of elaborate feline stretches. "Ohhh, that's much better," he sighed happily.

And at last, the red furred alien pointed the gun at himself, and a moment later, he shrank down into a familiar boy with messy blonde hair and a red shirt. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a certain CD player, pointing it directly at the aliens before him.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen and various other outer space genders – how about handing over our friend?"


	11. A Tiger's Inner Struggle

The sight of Calvin and his gang suddenly appearing in his special fortress filled Mangus with rage. He stammered incoherently for a few seconds as he tried to formulate a plan of action, and after a few moments, he thought he had something. "KILL THEM!" he shouted. "KILL THEM! KILL THEM! _KILL THEM_!"

Some aliens obeyed and started to descend on them, but something stopped them at the last moment. It was time itself, which seemed to have frozen where it was.

Hobbes looked around at their frozen attackers in surprise. He reached out and touched one of them curiously. "Did you use the Time Pauser?" he asked.

Calvin shook his head. "Haven't even got it out yet." He looked in the direction of Mangus, who was still moving. "What gives?"

Mangus looked terrified, but not of them. He looked in the direction of the creatures near the machinery.

Calvin raised his eyebrow at the Collective, unimpressed. "Nauseating, I must say," he murmured. "So this is the all-powerful Collective we've been hearing so much about?"

"The very same," one of them hissed in a voice that seemed to resemble a liquid.

"Is it wrong that we're focusing so much on their appearance?" Andy asked. "I feel like we should be better than that."

"I take it these guys froze their underlings," Sherman said. "Otherwise Mangus over there wouldn't be so nervous."

Mangus stood straighter. "How did you know my name?!"

"Oh, we've grown very familiar with you," Hobbes replied. "We've been here for days, changing our appearances every few hours so we could go anywhere we wanted throughout the complex."

"Had a heck of a time finding a little boy's room," Andy muttered.

"Observe our power," one of the Collective said, gesturing with a sloppy tentacle.

Everyone felt a ripple in the air, and all of the frozen attackers dropped to the floor. They staggered away from our heroes nervously, having been aware of what was happening the whole time.

"So you guys have the power to freeze your underlings," Calvin said. "How come you need the equation to control the universe if you can do that?"

"Our power is… limited," the Head Chill explained raspily. "We require the knowledge of all of time and space – the very building blocks of creation – to completely bend the universe unto our will."

"And it's all locked away in my noggin," Socrates spoke up. "Effectively, I've got all the marbles."

The Head Chill hissed at them. "How did you enter our world?" he growled.

"We snuck in through the back door," Hobbes replied.

"When the Head Klein and Mangus were having their little meeting a few days ago, the other Kleins held the entrance to the dimension open."

Jangadod looked at Mangus with frustration. "The one _you _opened," he pointed out.

Mangus spluttered indignantly. "It's hardly _my _fault! I mean, I don't see how it's _my _fault!"

"You didn't have someone guarding the entrance," another alien said.

"Well, of course I didn't! I couldn't let anyone hear what the Klein and me were talking about! It's a matter of security! You know I can't trust any of you!"

This was clearly the wrong thing to say, because now everyone was glaring at him with barely disguised irritation.

"You have jeopardized our entire operation," the Head Chill hissed, raising a tentacle. "You must be punished."

The aliens all took a step back, leaving Mangus standing before the Collective with an increasingly terrified expression. He tried to move away, but his joints had all simultaneously locked up. The only part of him that was moving was the perspiration trickling down his face. He tried to say something, but his lips wouldn't part. His teeth felt glued together.

The entire Collective raised their tentacles above their heads. There were no special effects – no electricity, no bolts of lightning, nothing that would serve us a warning that something was happening. Mangus just disappeared into thin air.

Everyone stared at the spot. The aliens were unmoved.

Calvin, Hobbes, Andy, Sherman and Socrates tried to hide how frightening this was.

"Now then," the Head Chill growled. "You have been here for four days. You have learned much, I would imagine."

Calvin managed to shake himself back to his normal thought processes and uncertainly resumed his usual way of doing things. "Yeah… you guys and the equation, you brought all these aliens from a number of planets and brainwashed them into being your underlings without actually changing their personalities so as to create the illusion of free will."

"Plus, you guys have been subconsciously manipulating the universe to get the equation where it needed to be," Hobbes added. "You've been lying in wait until it was finally properly formed in someone's head, and it's really just coincidence that it happened to be Socrates."

"And when the time came," Andy continued, "you put us in a floating timeline to ensure that no matter when you tracked Socrates down, you'd be able to pick him up whenever you felt like it."

"Plus, your little underlings made sure that we were all separated from each other to reduce the chance of us protecting him," Sherman put in.

"Not to mention you went to the ever-so-lovely added bonus of making my parents bigger jerks than usual to make sure I would be sent away," Calvin added bitterly.

"It was an effort to break your spirits," Jangadod explained halfheartedly. "We took a shot."

"Great," Hobbes grumbled. "And with me locked in an attic? Wonderful."

"One thing we couldn't figure out," Andy spoke up. "What's the deal with the human Chill family on Earth? It strikes me as just too big a coincidence that there are two brothers named John and Rupert who just happen to have evil alien counterparts named John and Rupert."

"An early test of our use of the equation when we still possessed it," the Head Chill replied. "We scattered our name all over time and space to let the universe know who would be ruling them one day."

"… I don't think anyone noticed," Socrates said. "Next time, you may want to be less subtle."

"We of the Collective _have _no individual names. The one known as Rupert took the name of the human when he deserted us and inflicted the idea of individual names on the people of Zok when he usurped their original leader. The one known as John followed in suit when he deserted."

"What a rich and boring history," Calvin sighed.

"We have given you information," the Head Chill hissed. "Now you will give us what _we _want."

"What's that?"

"What is the purpose of the transmitter?"

There was a long pause as all eyes fell on the quartet in the middle of the room. They looked like deer caught in the proverbial headlights.

Socrates cleared his throat. "Yeah… I was actually wondering that one as well," he said slowly. "Guys…?"

Calvin held the tiger's gaze for ten long and heavy seconds, silently weighing his options and wondering what he should do here. He looked over at Sherman, his cohort in the whole scheme, and the little hamster had never looked so small before. He simply hung his head, looking appropriately ashamed.

Calvin finally found his voice. "We put it there," he said, slowly but bravely. "It… started out as a prank. Sherman and I were both ticked off at you… and we decided that we would implant a transmitter and receiver chip in your head that could contact other planets. We've been using it primarily as a way to keep in touch with Galaxoid and Nebular – that's how we knew to go and save them from the Plantonians. We've kept it a secret from you because… well, it's hard to explain. I guess we just got used to it being a secret." And with that, he seemed to run out of steam and looked at his feet awkwardly.

Everyone looked at Socrates, waiting for his reaction. For the first time ever, the tiger had a genuinely thoughtful expression.

"So…," the Head Chill rasped. "It would seem that the human boy has been faced with the consequences of his actions… We shall remove the chip so that we may get to the equation."

"How are you going to do that if your equipment doesn't work?" Hobbes asked.

"We shall remove his head first."

Socrates was jolted from his musings by this announcement. "Hey, whoa! Wait a minute!"

"You are not required alive anymore. You are merely the carrying case for the prize. Now that we have you…"

"Yeah, about that," Calvin said, looking sheepish. "I'm afraid that won't be possible. You see, the thing is, we're here to stop you."

The Head Chill glared at him. "And what makes you think you can do that?" he hissed.

Calvin simply looked in the direction of Socrates. "I know this is probably a bad time, but do you remember a certain number that has come up rather frequently lately in your life?"

Socrates blinked. He searched the deep recesses of his memory for an answer, and in his own time, he realized where this was going. "Ohhhh… You mean 98462?"

The effect was instantaneous. The tiger immediately went into transmitter mode, and his arms literally wrenched themselves from the binds that held him. He back flipped through the air and landed on his tail, arms in the air and his mouth acting as a speaker.

Calvin shouted over to him. "Your Highness – the door is open! Sic 'em!"

"Copy that, Earth Potentate!" a familiar voice replied. "I shall give the order!"

With that, Hobbes went over and pinched Socrates's nose, bringing him out of it. "So _that's _why Frank had me counting off all those numbers," Socrates murmured. "It's like a gigantic jigsaw puzzle clicking into place!"

Jangadod looked uncertain. "What's going on? What've you done?" he demanded.

"Oh, the entire time we've been here, we've been sabotaging your defense systems, leaving you guys wide open to attack," Sherman replied. "Took me a while to learn how to do it, but after a few minutes, I managed to get it working."

"The Kleins have been holding the door open, and they're letting our reserves slip through via teleporter this very moment," Andy added.

"What reserves?" the Head Chill snarled in a saturated voice. "What are you talking about?"

"I called in a few favors," Calvin replied, smiling pleasantly. "The people of Annkor owe us big time for saving their planet. They've studied the battle tactics of nearly every culture in the universe. Suffice to say, you guys are going down."

"You _lie_!"

An explosion then shook the room, causing everyone to stagger around grabbing something for support or falling flat on their faces. Even a few members of the Collective were knocked down, hitting the floor with sickening splats.

Calvin stuck his tongue out at them in response.

"So King Stor, Galaxoid and Nebular are swarming the place with their army?" Socrates asked eagerly.

"Well and truly!" Hobbes replied.

"So what if they are?" Jangadod snapped. "They'll never get in here!"

Not more than two seconds later, the room lit up with electricity, and the room was suddenly filled with numerous Annkorians with no arms, several tentacles for feet and singular eyes in the middle of their heads with large pointy hats. It didn't stop them from training some heavy-duty guns on the various aliens in the room. Several aliens panicked and raised their numerous limbs in surrender.

There was a second flash, and Elliot, Galaxoid and Nebular appeared in the room. They were wielding badges of authority.

"We are here on behalf of the Universal Galactic Confederation Coalition," Galaxoid said.

"On behalf of those guys, you're totally under arrest!" added Nebular.

"We give!" an alien wailed. "Don't hurt us!"

Several more voiced their agreement, backing away in fear, and these ones found themselves being teleported out of the room, one by one.

Elliot, meanwhile, moved in the direction of Socrates and immediately hugged him. Socrates was taken by surprise, but he soon returned it.

"What's going on?" Jangadod demanded.

"We're teleporting them to a prison ship in the main universe," Nebular explained. "King Stor has arranged for us to take them back to our planet for deprogramming."

"Deprogramming?"

"I'm afraid that you have been mentally manipulated," Galaxoid explained. "That's the whole reason you've been working for the Collective. We shall repair your minds and send you home in the hopes that you can lead normal lives."

Jangadod could only watch as they were teleported one by one out of the room, and within seconds, the room was empty, and he could only look helplessly at the Collective before he too was taken away.

The Chills were starting to lose their cool.

"You will _not _get away with this!" the Head Chill growled. "You have been very fortunate so far, but we have yet to display the full force of our powers!"

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Calvin smirked. "Soon you'll be teleported out of here and into prison with the rest of your little team, and _then _we'll see how tough you are."

There was a long pause as everyone waited.

Nothing happened.

"… Aren't they supposed to be… _going _somewhere now?" Elliot whispered.

Calvin threw an uncertain glance in the direction of Galaxoid and Nebular, who both exchanged glances before Nebular put a tentacle to the spot where his ear would've been if he had one, apparently listening to the person on the other end.

"… They're saying the teleporter has stopped working… They've got all of the organization locked up… except the Collective themselves."

Everyone looked up at the Collective uncertainly. They didn't even react.

"Halting the particles of a teleportation device is _hardly _difficult," the Head Chill explained evenly. "We are _not _going anywhere without that calculation."

"And how precisely do you intend to get it?" Calvin asked.

One of the Chills flicked a tentacle vaguely in the direction of Socrates.

The tiger's head jerked backwards, and he fell over backwards onto the floor, unconscious to the world around him.

Elliot was by his side in a second. "Socrates! What did they do to him?!"

Calvin immediately used the MTM to scan the fallen tiger. "MTM, how is he?" he asked urgently.

MTM scanned a great big green laser across Socrates, scanning all his vital signs. "Still alive… Pulse still strong… Brain activity… I'm not sure what they've done to him."

"We have simply stopped him," the Head Chill replied.

"What's that mean?" Hobbes asked.

"We… have _stopped _him."

"… I don't think they actually know," Nebular whispered.

The Chills hissed. "Allow us to demonstrate the extent of our power…"

Everyone who wasn't a Chill began backing away from them, watching in silent terror as their tentacles began to rise above them menacingly. They all began to cower nervously in the corner realizing their great big clever plan wasn't really working as well as they had been hoping it would – all except Elliot as he was still trying in vain to wake Socrates from his unconsciousness.

"Socrates, please wake up!" the boy practically wailed. "Please! It can't end like this! Come on!"

He didn't notice it in his panic, but behind his closed eyelids, the tiger's eyes were flitting back and forth skittishly.

Socrates was dreaming.

* * *

He came to in a dark void. The whole place was like a sketch book full of strange modern scratches and scribbles with only a small white spot in the middle where he stood. He looked around curiously. He wasn't sure where he was or how he got here, but something about it felt familiar. He couldn't place it, but he somehow knew that he had been here before.

To make matters worse, he sensed someone was here with him.

He turned around to face the stranger in the darkness.

It was a large figure that towered over him more and more the closer he came. He was hulking large black mass that at first seemed to have no shape, but it became clearer once he was in sharp focus, allowing his sinister red eyes to dominate his face.

Socrates's eyes widened with recognition. He knew where he was and who his large friend was.

"You…," he whispered.

The figure let out a low throaty chuckle. "… _**YES… ONCE AGAIN, WE STAND TOGETHER…**_"

"Well… Jambo, Dark Me – how's tricks?"

"_**DON'T THINK YOU CAN GET OUT OF THIS WITH JOKES AND SARCASM, SOCRATES… THIS IS THE MOMENT I HAVE ALWAYS TOLD YOU ABOUT.**_"

Socrates rolled his eyes. "Yeah, the moment you keep talking about, but you never seemed sure when it would come."

"_**I AM A PART OF YOU. I KNOW AS MUCH AS YOU DO. AND YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS.**_"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah… How do you get out of here?"

"_**YOU KNOW THE WAY.**_"

"Alternative exits, maybe? Fire exit?"

"_**YOU'VE BEEN AVOIDING ME AT EVERY TURN, SOCRATES. YOU'VE REPRESSED ME FOR SO LONG NOW. BUT NOW YOU KNOW THE TRUTH. THEY DID THIS TO YOU. THE COLLECTIVE PUT THE CALCULATION IN YOUR HEAD. YOUR FRIENDS PUT A CHIP IN YOUR HEAD. IT'S TIME FOR YOU TO TAKE ON YOUR REVENGE.**_"

Socrates responded by putting his fingers in his ears and sticking his tongue out at his Dark Self.

"_**YOU KNOW ACCEPTING ME IS THE ONLY WAY TO SAVE THEM…**_," Dark Socrates hissed. "_**IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO BECOME WHOLE.**_"

Socrates was wavering. "I… I can't…"

"_**YOU CAN, AND YOU WILL…**_"

"No…"

"_**YESSSSS…**_"

Socrates struggled. He knew he had to make a choice. He had always wanted to avoid this day, but now it was here, and his dark self was holding out one of his great big black paws for him to take.

In the end, he sighed as came to the conclusion that his friends needed him. He looked as hangdog as he could about it.

"Fine…," he mumbled, and he held out a paw of his own and grasped his darker self's.

Dark Socrates grinned. "_**AT LONG LAST… I WILL RULE YOUR MIND… I WILL HAVE COMPLETE CONTROL OVER… WAIT… WHAT'S HAPPENING?**_"

Socrates simply smiled. "You think you can control me? Sorry – not happening. I am whole. I am in control. _You're_ only one small part of me. And I will use you like the tool you are, bub."

Dark Socrates was horrified to find that he was growing smaller and smaller. He struggled to free himself from the other tiger's hand, but he couldn't wrench himself free. It was as if all his strength was being sapped from his body. He growled and hissed, but he soon descended into hacking and coughing pathetically. He doubled over as Socrates maintained his firm grip.

Finally, he found himself dangling from Socrates's hand. He was practically bite size now.

Therefore, it only made sense that Socrates tossed him up in the air and caught him in his mouth, devouring him in one bite. He grinned his usual grin before feeling a new power course through him, and he could feel his eyes opening.

* * *

Everyone reeled back as Socrates suddenly sat up with the fiercest growl any of them had ever heard. He bared his teeth, surprising everyone with how sharp they looked. Elliot was almost knocked over as the red-tailed tiger jolted forwards onto all four of his feet, his tail flicking around violently with the angriest expression that anyone had ever seen.

Even the Collective stopped in surprise. "How did he get out of that?" one exclaimed. "How'd he escape?"

In a low, angry voice that no one had ever heard Socrates use before, the tiger replied, "Ohhhh, bubba… Sheer force of will. Care to see more?"

For the first time since they had entered the room, the members of the Collective were showing some emotion – fear. They tried to stand their ground, but that didn't intimidate the feline, who suddenly reminded everyone in the room that he was a homicidal psycho jungle cat that could, if he wanted to, rip apart a buffalo with his bare paws.

He wasted no time in rearing up and catapulting himself across the room. He slammed into the Head Chill and took him out, knocking down several of the other Chills in the process like bowling pins. The aliens cried out, taken off guard by the unexpected assault, struggling to get themselves up so they could manipulate reality, but they were having trouble focusing with all the pain they were experiencing.

Meanwhile, the others were watching Socrates in silent wonder. They'd never seen this side of him before.

"Should we…? I mean, should we help?" Hobbes asked.

Calvin watched as Socrates singlehandedly pounced three of the Collective at once. "Well… I don't know…"

MTM electronically cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should see to getting rid of them?"

"But they jammed the teleporter," Andy reminded him.

"Only so they couldn't be taken _out_. Suppose we used it to bring someone else _in_?"

"Someone like… say… the authorities?" Sherman suggested.

"Sounds good to me."

Galaxoid immediately pressed his earpiece. "Rowan – teleport the proper authorities here to apprehend the Collective," he ordered.

A few seconds later, much to the relief of everyone, there was a sudden flash of electricity, and six Kleins stood in the middle of the room, all wearing pristine white suits, meaning the only thing that made them distinguishable from each other were their colored neckties. The one on the end wearing a yellow tie held out his hand in the direction of the brawl.

In an instant, Socrates was lifted up off of the Chills, and he was carried by the scruff of his neck into the air. He clawed at the air a bit, but he couldn't quite manage to get himself going again from where he hung.

The Klein wearing a blue tie held his finger to his lips. "Shhh… Relax…"

A few seconds later, the tiger's thrashing and growling finally ceased, and the feral look in his eye faded back to his normal appearance. He gasped for breath, nodding in acceptance. This prompted the Kleins to gesture, and he was set down on the ground next to his friends.

Elliot immediately ran over and hugged him. "Socrates, that was incredible!"

Socrates just nodded, trying to get his breath back.

"Man where'd _that _come from?" Hobbes asked. "Have you been secretly pumping iron when we weren't looking?"

Seeing as how the Kleins were still attending to the Collective, Socrates decided he still had time for an explanation. "I've… had issues with my darker side," he said in voice that was surprisingly calm and thoughtful. "I try to keep it under lock and key… I never thought any good would come from embracing that side of myself… But it would appear… I have finally realized that all it takes is _balance_. I can embrace my inner darkness, but I don't have to let it control me."

Calvin nodded. "I can dig that," he replied. "I did the same thing with my light side."

Everyone looked at him with curiosity, but no one really wanted to ask questions.

Meanwhile, the Kleins were standing over the Chills, who were rapidly healing themselves, but they were rendered powerless with the Kleins focusing on them.

"So…," the Head Chill hissed. "What will you do with us?"

"Oh, so many ideas," one of the Kleins said thoughtfully. "We could lock you away in the heart of a star…"

"Or we could put you in suspended time to give you that immortality you wanted so badly," another one said.

"Force you to sit through a twenty-four news network for a week. That'd be intensely unpleasant…"

Hobbes cleared his throat. "Er, guys? What about us?"

The Head Klein looked at them. "Well, we'll be sending you all back home in a bit. We just need to wrap up some business here."

"But what about the equation?" Elliot asked. "Don't we need to get rid of it?"

A brief moment of silence greeted this question before one of the Kleins cleared his throat. "Well… naturally, we'll make sure no one can access it. We'll see to it that it doesn't fall into the wrong hands."

Socrates rubbed his head. "How, pray tell, do you intend to do that?" he asked warily.

"Not to worry," the Head Klein assured him. "It won't hurt. Just _relax_…"

"Why? What are you…?"

Socrates trailed off as his head lolled backwards and his mouth hung open. Then he spoke in a robotic voice normally reserved for when his chip was in use. "Eight… Seven… Five… Four… Six…" His head shook back and forth for a few moments before he suddenly came back to life, and his head snapped back up, throwing him off balance. Elliot and Andy helped him steady himself.

"What the heck was that?" Andy asked.

Sherman cleared his throat. "That was the deactivation code for the transmitter chip," he explained. "He's never needed to use it before."

"And now, we have access to the equation," the Head Klein said. "Concentrate, my brothers…"

The Kleins all closed their eyes and focused. They tilted their heads back in perfect unison.

Calvin was growing suspicious. "Wait a minute, what are you guys…?"

He was interrupted when a colorful glow began to fill the room. They watched as the chamber filled with a geyser of numbers and squiggles. They lined the walls and swirled around them for a moment before rapidly focusing into a glowing sphere in the middle of the room.

"What's that?" Nebular asked quietly, stunned by the wonderful world of color before him.

"The equation…," the Head Klein whispered. "In all its glory…" He reached out towards it with his index finger to touch it.

Calvin spoke up. "Question – what are _you guys _going to do with it?"

The Head Klein stopped to address him. "Nothing major," he assured him. "We will simply erase all the influence the Collective has had on the universe with their limited powers. They've been manipulating it for a long time. Need I remind you of how old you should be by now?"

Exchanging a wary glance with the others, Calvin nodded. "Yeah, I remember… Okay, go ahead."

The Head Klein started to reach for the sphere again.

Calvin suddenly interrupted him again. "Hold on! Another question – what about the _good_ things the Collective did?"

That brought the Kleins up short. They froze where they stood, looking confused.

"_What _good things?" the Klein with the green necktie asked.

"Well, there are clearly _some _things they did that weren't horrible. Okay, fine, they were going to ultimately reshape the universe into their own image, but in the meantime, they've clearly influenced things that are good. And to add to that, who's to say we'll all still be friends after you reset everything?"

"Hey, yeah!" Hobbes said, latching onto his friend's way of thinking. "And how do you know that a universe _without _their influence will be better than the one _with it_? Can't you just leave everything the way it is and lock them up?"

"Regrettably, that is not possible," the Head Klein said sagely. "In order to ensure that the universe is safe forever, we must purge reality of their influence. We will do everything we can to ensure that order is maintained."

Calvin thought about that for a moment before shrugging. "Okay… I guess I can't refute that logic… Go ahead."

The Head Klein nodded and reached for the sphere again.

"Oh, wait! Yes, I can! _I_ can refute _anything_!" Calvin suddenly exclaimed, slapping his forehead as if he'd just remembered this fact. "So, you guys aren't just eradicating what the _Collective _did to the universe. You're going to rewrite it so that it conforms to _your _ideas of what the universe is supposed to be!"

The Head Klein froze, and in perfect unison, they all looked at him. "We're doing what's _best _for the universe so that it will survive," he said quietly.

"And who decides what's best for the universe?" Calvin demanded, taking a step towards them. "You guys?"

"_Calvin_…"

"If you ask me, we're just trading one Collective with a god complex for another! As soon as you touch that sphere, the calculation will transfer to you guys, and then who _knows _what the universe will turn into!"

The Kleins all glared at him. "Calvin, if we have to stop you, we will," they hissed in harmony.

"Oh, yeah? Well, what if _I_ stop _you_?" he snapped, pulling out the Transmogrifier Gun.

"You think _that _can stop us?"

"No, but it's a nice distraction."

He fired a laser at the ceiling, causing a shower of sparks and smoke to rain down over the Kleins, taking them by surprise. As they were all ducking down, Calvin ditched the gun and jumped through the air, raising his hand up as high as it would go, and before anyone could grab him, his hand touched the sphere.

There was a blinding flash as it erupted and sent all its data swirling through the room like a hurricane of numbers and symbols, and then, like water pouring down a drain, it all swirled into a whirlpool, straight into Calvin's head.

He staggered, jerked backwards, and when he opened his eyes, they were replaced by two shining green orbs. He turned to the Klein Collective and the Chill Collective with a lethal expression.

"Ohhhh, _boys_…," he singsonged. "Come out and _pla-a-a-a-y-y-y-y-y_…"


	12. Cracking the Equation

**Author's Note: **_Okay, here we are - the climax. Also, if you missed the anagram in the earlier chapter, it comes up again here. See if you can spot it, and I'll reveal it in the epilogue's author's note. Be ready for how anti-climactic it is._

* * *

Everyone immediately took a step backwards from Calvin, whose eyes continued to glow with the power of the universe brimming away inside him. Although he had only taken the power to prevent anyone else from getting it, they weren't certain that _he _was the one who ought to have control over it.

Andy cleared his throat. "… Calvin?"

Calvin turned to look at his friend. "Yes, Andrew?" he asked, in a tone that was more or less his own.

"Are you… okay?"

"Quite, my boy… Yes, quite all right. In fact, I feel wonderful. All the knowledge of the universe has been opened to me…"

The Head Klein cleared his throat. "Calvin, please…," he said calmly, hoping to disguise how nervous he was. "Let's not be hasty…"

Calvin looked over at him innocently. "Hasty? Me? I don't know the meaning of the word."

At that moment, a member of the Chill Collective stood and made a grab for Calvin. The boy responded with a gesture that froze him where he stood.

Everyone stared at the frozen creature before looking at Calvin, who simply smiled. "I know what you're all thinking. You're wondering whether or not he jumped up of his own free will, or did I _make him _jump up."

Socrates blinked. "Did you?"

Calvin smirked. "Ohhh… _I'll _never tell."

One of the Kleins spoke up. "Calvin, come on… We're your friends. We've helped you before. Let us help you now."

"Did I ask you to speak?" Calvin replied.

The Head Chill stood up. "Boy, you listen to us – if you cross us, we _will _destroy you."

"Been an all-knowing all-powerful Collective for all this time, and _this _is how smart you are?" Calvin grumbled. "You guys have been having your all-important battle for centuries, trying to best each other in your quest to get the equation, toying with the inhabitants of the universe to get it, and in the end, you were outsmarted by a six-year-old boy in short pants."

"Calvin, don't make us stop you…," the Head Klein said quietly.

"You think you can stop me now, boys?" Calvin asked, holding his hands out, revealing a minty green glow. "I have absolute power over every particle in the entire universe – everything that has ever existed or _will _ever exist! I can make anyone do anything I want! I am Calvin the Bold – and I command the universe unto my will!"

And with a dramatic flair, he sent bolts of energy at the two Collectives, picking them up and suspending them in the air, frozen but completely aware of their surroundings.

His friends watched this with mounting dread.

Hobbes finally worked up the nerve to approach him. He tapped his friend on the shoulder gently. "Are you okay…?" he asked worriedly.

Calvin turned around, and to everyone's surprise, his eyes were normal and clear, and the earlier madness was gone. "Huh? Oh, yeah, don't worry. Everything's fine. Just wanted to scare them a little. Still, now that they're taken care for the time being, we need to discuss this."

"Discuss what?"

"Well, we've got power over the universe. What do we do with it? What changes do we make before we destroy the equation?"

"Destroy the equation?" Sherman asked.

"Well, sure! You can't expect that we're going to keep this thing! Power corrupts! You just saw what it _could've _done to me. Besides, I'm not interested in godhood. I've got to get through elementary school first."

They all thought for a moment.

"Well, we could finally get rid of Donald Trump," Elliot suggested. "Or at the very least, make him a nicer guy."

"Or teach him how to eat a dang pizza," Socrates added.

"We could stop war throughout the universe," Sherman suggested. "Bring peace to everyone."

"All conflicts could be resolved with a game of Tic Tac Toe," Andy put in. "Maybe bring the price of gas down…"

"And stop Michael Bay before he strikes again," MTM suggested.

"If someone parks in a handicapped space without being handicapped, their shuttlecraft blows up," Nebular added.

"Provided they're already out of the shuttlecraft, of course," Galaxoid said, feeling it was an important detail.

"Lots of interesting ideas," Calvin said, thinking about them all.

"There's just one nagging question I have about all this mucking with the universe business," Hobbes said at last.

Everyone turned to look at him questioningly.

"Do we have the right to do all this?"

"What?" Sherman asked. "Do we have the right to improve the universe? Is that seriously what you're asking?"

"Improve it according to whom, Vermin? Us? I know we have unlimited power, but come on! Do we really have the right to change things just to please ourselves? What about everyone else in the universe? Don't they get a say?"

"What are you saying?" Elliot asked. "Do we poll the entire universe?"

"I'm just saying this seems like a slippery slope moment. The Collectives were all set to shape everything to their liking. Isn't that what _we're_ doing?"

They all exchanged glances with each other, considering what the tiger was saying. They let it hang over them, trying to decide what they should do.

"Do you think the universe can pull itself out of the fire all on its own?" Calvin asked.

Hobbes shrugged. "I'm just wondering if we have the right to decide its fate."

Calvin scratched the back of his head in thought. He threw a glance in the direction of the Kleins and the Chills, who were all looking back at him with anger from the air above. He couldn't help but shiver.

"Overcoming obstacles is a part of life," he said quietly. "It… builds character."

Ignoring the implications of what he just said, he turned back to his friends.

"Okay… We won't change anything huge. How about we just reset everything to wherever it was the Chills started messing with us more directly?"

"When was that?" Socrates asked.

"Probably around the time that you guys all started moving away, and Dad started acting like a bigger jerk than usual."

"So everything will be reset to that moment with all the noticeable changes nixed?" Andy asked. "What'll happen to the Collectives?"

"I'll send them back to whatever dimensions they come from and lock them in so they can't come back again, without any memory of the equation. Hopefully, they won't give us anymore trouble."

"So _everything's _going back to the way it was before?" Sherman asked.

"Yep! Everything! We'll all be home where we belong…," Calvin said, trailing off as he realized what the hamster was hinting at. "Oh… Yeah…"

"What?" Elliot asked.

"Shermie's invention won't get produced if we set everything back to normal," Andy said, realizing his friend's dream was about to be taken away from him. "Oh, Shermie… I'm sorry… Maybe we can still make it happen."

Everyone looked at Sherman, who was sitting on a wooden box, staring at his little paws in sadness, but then he looked up at everyone in the room – his friends – and he couldn't help but smile slightly before giving a brief shrug. "Meh… Easy come, easy go," he said. "Let's fix this mess and go home, huh?"

Everyone smiled, relieved of whatever guilt they might've felt.

"One other thing," Hobbes said suddenly. "What do we do about our aging?"

"What do you mean?" asked Andy.

"I mean, do we stay as we are in a floating timeline, or do we take a chance and start aging normally?"

They all thought about that. None of them were altogether sure of what the answer was. To stay in a perpetual youth without ever getting older was a very tempting idea. To stay as they were forever, always together, no danger of going anywhere or losing someone… It was something they all thought about very hard.

But the decision fell to Calvin, who looked at his glowing hands in contemplation. "We all have to grow up sometime…," he whispered.

"So… we're going for it?" Hobbes asked. "We're going to… as they say… grow up?"

Andy whistled. "Wow… Can you imagine us going through puberty?"

Socrates wrinkled his nose. "What a revolting thought."

"So we're all going to start aging forwards again?" Elliot asked. "We're all going to grow up and grow hair and go to college and get jobs?"

"And learn to drive," Calvin said, trying to be optimistic. "There's that, too, you know."

"Huh boy," Sherman said, rolling his eyes to the sky with dread.

There were some dry chuckles at this, but they died away into silence. They all looked at each other hesitantly, quite aware that they were about to head into a very uncertain future. Things were finally going to change, and they were just going to have to accept it.

"Well…," Calvin said at last. "Looks like it's time."

He got various nods of acceptance from his friends.

"Let's go," Hobbes said, putting a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.

Calvin smiled, and then he concentrated. His eyes began to turn completely blue again, and his hands began to glow.

Everyone closed their eyes, and before long, they were on their way home.

* * *

They came to in Calvin's bedroom.

Calvin yawned and stretched, trying to get himself to stand up, but he felt a bit sluggish. He looked around and saw that Hobbes, Andy, Sherman, Socrates, Elliot and the MTM were all scattered around him, each one slowly regaining consciousness.

It took a few moments, but eventually, they were all sitting up on the floor, taking in their surroundings.

"Wow…," Elliot whispered. "We're… we're actually home…"

"MTM – what's the date?" Hobbes asked.

"It's approximately one month earlier," the CD player replied. "It's shortly after we put away that monster from under your bed. We've been deposited right back to the point in time and space before Socrates found out he was moving."

Hobbes blinked. "That's not exactly the _date_, but okay…"

Andy looked around. "Where are Galaxoid and Nebular? Weren't they with us?"

"I didn't include them in the reset," Calvin replied. "Sent them and all their people back to their home planet where they belong. Only we in this room remember what happened."

They all started to get back onto their feet, getting used to standing on them again.

"And the Collectives – what happened to them?" Sherman asked.

"Transported them all back to their home dimensions," Calvin explained. "Locked them up and threw away the key."

"Even the Kleins?"

"Time they went home, I thought. You know, I always thought it strange that a Klein showed up just when I needed him most. They were manipulating events just as much as the Chills were. Beings like them should never be brought into… being. Life is enough of a struggle without those twin sets of twits making it worse."

Socrates cleared his throat. "Er… there's one thing _I've _noticed," he said, drawing in everyone's attention. "The… transmitter receiver chip whatsit in my brain… I still know I have it."

Everyone looked between him and Calvin questioningly, waiting to see what they would have to say.

Finally, Calvin found his voice. He made sure to maintain steady eye contact with Socrates, supposing he owed him that much. "I figured you deserved to know," he said. "It's _your_ head. Whatever you want to do with it is completely up to you. If you want to have it removed, just say the word."

Socrates thought for a few moments, clearing weighing the pros and cons of having a small transmitter chip lodged in his brain. He scratched his chin, and a small yet undeniably mischievous grin began to form on his face.

Elliot was the first to voice his concerns. "Socrates…," he said in a slow careful voice. "What're you thinking?"

"Oh, just a few simple thoughts, Elliot, my friend," the red-tailed tiger said in a tone so innocent he could only be guilty.

"About what?"

"Oh… Just a few ideas for modifications, if my best buddy Sherman here would be so willing to indulge me…"

Sherman glared at him. "Oh yeah? Such as?"

Socrates smiled sneakily. "We can discuss terms later. Suffice to say, some aliens are about to be asked if their refrigerator is running."

Everyone groaned.

"So you just went through a life-altering adventure and had a great big personal breakthrough, and you've learned absolutely nothing?" Elliot demanded.

"Oh, I wouldn't say _that_…," Socrates said assuringly. "I learned that light and dark can work fairly well together to make a stronger whole… And I learned that sometimes 'good' and 'evil' are relative and meaningless terms…"

"What a coincidence," said Andy. "I think we _all _learned that one."

"Well, at least we all got home in one piece," Calvin said.

"Yeah, I don't know how you guys do it," Elliot sighed, sitting down in the wooden chair by the desk. "Man that was terrifying."

Andy shrugged. "I guess we just got used to it after a while."

"It's just that through sheer repetition, we've gotten better at this world-saving lark," MTM chipped in.

Socrates put an arm around his friend's shoulder. "Yeah, why don't you join us next time? What do you say, Elliot? Save the world? Fight evil aliens and mad scientists? Get into heaps of trouble?"

Elliot blinked. He looked at everyone's expectant faces. "Er… thanks, Socrates, but I really don't think this adventuring stuff is for me. I mean, heck, I usually just hang out at home unless I'm doing school stuff with friends."

Calvin blinked. "Yeah… No offense or anything, but…"

"I get it. Conflict of interests," Elliot said. "I just don't think I'm suited to doing this all the time."

"To each his own," Sherman said understandingly.

"So…," Andy said slowly. "Have we covered everything?"

"What about the whole 'aging' thing?" Elliot asked. "Are we going to start aging normally now?"

"How long before we know for sure it worked?" Hobbes asked. "We all look the same as we did before."

"I guess we'll find out in due course," Calvin said with a shrug.

"And the equation…?" Hobbes asked. "Is it really destroyed like you said it would be?"

Calvin stood up a little straighter. He closed his eyes as if concentrating. He slowly raised his hands up above his hands, apparently beginning to summon the power he'd had just moments ago. His forehead crinkled slightly in concentration.

Everyone felt a little anxious. None of them were really certain just what he was trying to do. They all waited with baited breath for some kind of result.

Finally, Calvin's head jolted to the side for a split-second, and his whole face screwed up as he started to twitch and convulse rapidly, and he let out a low-pitched moan as he did so.

Then, without warning, he let out a loud, "_BOO!_"

Everyone jumped backwards in alarm, grabbing onto each other with terrified expressions.

And then, their terror transformed into irritation when Calvin doubled over in laughter, clutching his sides. "Ohhh, you just fell for the _oldest trick in the book_! The ol' pretend-to-have-godlike-powers gag – _classic_!" he said in a voice full of childish mirth.

The others all looked at each other with barely concealed frustration before Hobbes started grinning evilly. "Gang – follow my lead," he said in a tone full of false-pleasantries. He reared up and immediately pounced his friend to the floor.

"Hey!" Calvin shouted. "What's _your _problem? Can't you take a joke?"

And one by one, _everyone _proceeded to pounce on Calvin, from Socrates, to Andy, to Elliot, and even Sherman jumped on top of the pile. MTM extended his robotic arms and leapfrogged on top of them as well.

Soon, they were all wrestling and laughing. They were home once again.

* * *

The days passed, and everything pretty much went back to normal.

Calvin wrote the paper about his vacation, telling the story of how he went to an alternative dimension and reset time to save his friends from two equally manipulative organizations. Miss Wormwood flunked him for 'making it up' and being 'too wordy'.

Still, he didn't care much. The month that passed by was fairly present, with lots of fun and games, not to mention things to save the world from.

Elliot went back to hanging in the background, doing his own thing while the others had their adventures.

One of the alterations Socrates had done to the transmitter was that he be given the ability to remain conscious through the whole thing so he could have some input in future conversation that were had through it. He also requested the ability to make calls himself. He at first would contact random frequencies to prank them over light years, but he put a stop to it when he accidentally ticked off the ruler of a violent war-loving race, and he and the gang had to travel to the planet to battle them. They kicked the aliens' butts, but it simply shouldn't have happened, and it ended up being another lesson about talking to strangers for Socrates to absorb. Now he just uses it to contact people on Earth, such as the pizza delivery guy.

A few days before Spring Break was supposed to start – again – the gang were hanging out in the backyard, playing with dart guns and attacking each other.

While this was going on, Calvin's parents were in the kitchen. Dad was reading his paper at the table while Mom was making lunch for the boys – two with turkey and cheese, and two with tuna fish.

Dad turned to a certain article in the paper. "Hmmm…," he said. "This is interesting."

"What is?" Mom asked, pulling out some chips to go with the sandwiches.

"There's some sort of week-long camp in town that inflicts obedience on children. It says here, 'Only through obedience and respect for authority will children ever become polite, well-mannered members of society.'"

"Oh brother," Mom sighed. "You're not thinking of sending Calvin, are you?"

Dad looked at her for a few moments before he burst out laughing. "Oh, can you imagine him in such a camp? He'd reduce the whole place to rubble within minutes," he chuckled. "The very idea… It doesn't even let you bring personal items from home!"

Mom smiled and took the sandwiches out to the backyard, kissing her husband on the forehead as she passed him. "Okay, boys – lunchtime!" she shouted.

Calvin and Andy came running up with two stuffed tigers in their arms and a hamster on the latter's shoulder. "Thanks, Mom!" Calvin said, grabbing his sandwich.

After she went back inside, everyone sat down and had their lunch. Andy passed tiny bits of his sandwich to Sherman so he wouldn't be left out.

"So…," Socrates said between bites. "What are we going to do for your spring break?"

Calvin shrugged. "Well, camp clearly isn't happening again. Dad hasn't tried to force it on me."

"It's reassuring that it was the Collective that made him into a total jerk," Andy remarked. "Otherwise, we would've had to call Child Services."

"I have a crack team of lawyers waiting at a moment's notice," Sherman added.

"What was it like at camp, anyway? You never told us," Hobbes said.

"Oh, the counselors were all nuts," Calvin said disdainfully. "Totally totalitarian dictators determined to suck all the joy out of life so kids would be pleasant little un-stressful angels."

Andy winced. "Yikes. How'd you manage to put up with that?"

"Simple, really – I garnered a group of fellow dissenters, and we proceeded to bring chaos and disruption to the camp. Nice kids, really. They played a mean game of Calvinball."

Sherman thought for a moment. "So what happened to them when you reset time?"

Calvin opened his mouth to speak, but then he came up empty as he realized something. "Er… I suppose… they'll just go back to camp… again."

"Without your influence to help them," Hobbes murmured.

"Trapped with a bunch of Stepford Smilers," Socrates said with a shudder. "Not a pleasant thought."

Calvin thought for a few moments. He took a slow bite of his sandwich as he and his friends realized where his current train of thought was taking him.

"You're going to camp, aren't you?" Hobbes asked.

"I believe I am, Hobbes," he sighed. "Hang on. I'll inform my parents." He finished his sandwich and got up.

"Wait," Andy said. "I can probably get my parents to sign me up if we say we're going together."

"You're sure? I'm not exaggerating, Andy. This place is not for the faint of heart."

"Oh, I think I can handle one week at a horrible camp," Andy said reassuringly. "Come on. Let's sign up for horror."

The two boys got up and headed into the house, leaving their animal friends to sit in the grass.

"Well!" Hobbes said. "Looks like we're spending a week on our own, boys!"

"It would appear so," Sherman said disdainfully. "Fortunately, I have a project to keep me busy."

"What's that?" asked Socrates.

"I'm working with my university cohorts to see about helping to improve working conditions in China – specifically factory workers on assembly lines."

"Wow," said Socrates. "You know, I read online that they can chew their own air."

* * *

Dad looked down at the two boys in front of him in surprise.

"Calvin, are you sure about this?" he asked. "It doesn't sound like the kind of place where you'd have any fun, and you won't be allowed to bring stuff from home. Your toys and tigers would have to stay here."

Calvin smirked. "It'll be okay, Dad. I'll have Andy there to help me out. And with a camp full of miniature delinquents, I daresay I'll be making some new friends before too long."

"Well, as long as you're not completely alone…" Dad glanced at Mom, who looked just as surprised as he did. "What do you think, dear?" he asked.

"Well…," she said slowly, "if you really want to, sweetie, we'll see what Andy's parents say, and if they agree, you can go to this… camp place."

"Great! Thanks, Mom! Thanks, Dad!"

And they ran back out to the backyard.

Calvin's parents blinked, still surprised by the conversation.

"So…," Mom said. "How long do you think they'll keep him?"

"I don't know if we'll even be home from dropping him off," Dad deadpanned.

* * *

A few days later, Calvin and Andy were stepping out of the car with one suitcase each and they were looking up at the sign – _Welcome to Obedience Camp! Stomping the Disobedience out of Children since 2003! Sponsored by Latex Finish ™!_

"This should be interesting," Andy murmured.

"Just follow my lead," Calvin whispered.

Calvin's parents led them up to the building, passing through the doors and towards the front desk, and there was Carol in all her deranged fake-cheeriness, beaming away.

"You could deflect lasers with those bicuspids," Andy said under his breath.

"Hello! Welcome to the Obedience Camp for disobedient children! My name is Carol! How may I help you?" Her voice was like every single trained receptionist in the world – overtly cheerful and highly annoying.

"Yes, we're here to check in our son, Calvin, and his friend, Andy," Dad said, trying not to look too disturbed.

"Oh, good!" she cheered before leaning over the desk to look down at Calvin. "Hello, Calvin! Hello, Andy! My name is Carol! Can you say 'Carol'?"

"Carol," Calvin said flatly. "Now what do I win?"

"Calvin, be nice," Mom whispered before readdressing the deranged woman before her.

"Come on, Calvin!" Carol continued. "Let's see where your room is! I'll bet your roommates will be glad to see you! Although, I'm afraid to your late entries, you won't be able to bunk together."

Calvin held up his hand. "Not to worry. We'll soon make friends, won't we, Andy?"

"I think we will," Andy said with a relaxed grin. "Lead on, Carol! Oh, look! I said it, too!"

"Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad! See you in a week! We'll be sure to write!"

"Okay, well, bye, sweetie," Mom said, planting a kiss on his forehead. "Have a good time."

"So long, boys. Have a good time," Dad said, ruffling Andy's hair.

And with that, the two boys set off down the hallway, winking broadly at each other.

Mom and Dad waved until they had all disappeared around the corner.

"What do you suppose they're plotting?" Mom asked.

Dad shrugged. "We'll find out when we get the phone call begging us to take them home," he said, turning and walking towards the door.

* * *

To the surprise of everyone, it took roughly four days before the phone rang, and they received a frantic message from the camp. Mom listened to it with some strange combination of annoyance and amusement.

"Something wrong, Carol?" she asked innocently.

"I'm afraid your son Calvin is going to be sent home this afternoon," the frenzied voice with fake-cheeriness on the other end of the line said.

"Oh? Well, that's… a shame. What did he do wrong?"

"I'm afraid he has been absolutely… _naughty_! He insists on telling his own stories at story time, he made his own sport instead of choosing one of the ones we had picked out for him, and every time we have painting time, he _insists _on painting what he _wants _to paint! He simply won't follow directions or do what anyone says!"

Mom nodded. "Mmmm… That sounds like my kid."

"Well, I'm sorry, but he's proving to be a bad influence on the kids. He's got _everyone _doing their own thing now! We can't get any of the kids to follow our guidelines! He's a complete troublemaker! What are we going to tell the parents of these children when they come home and continue to act out? What? Hmmm?"

"Well… you could tell them that if they feel the need to send their children to a place where they are forced to conform to society's expectations of them, they need to question their own skills as parents," Mom replied helpfully.

There was a pause on the other end of the phone.

"We're sending him home on a bus," Carol said at last, with no trace of fake-friendliness at all.

"I'll be here to greet him," Mom said pleasantly.

* * *

The bus arrived that afternoon, depositing the two boys outside Calvin's house. They carried their suitcases down to the sidewalk, feeling pleased with themselves. They made their way up the path to the front door.

"So what do you figure will happen at the camp?" Andy asked.

"Who can say?" Calvin said with a shrug. "Maybe our influence has had an everlasting effect on the other kids, and they'll continue in the ways we showed them, and their parents will be angry and sue the camp for being ineffective and shut them down."

"You think so?"

"It's one of many possibilities."

They walked up to the front door, and Calvin, without thinking, opened the front door, shouting to the occupants, "I'M HOME!"

Andy just barely had time to duck as a familiar blur of orange and black collided with Calvin and sent him flying through the air, into the yard, and crashing in a heap, kicking up grass and sending dirt everywhere. His suitcase burst open, sending a flurry of clothes all over the lawn.

Calvin spat some grass out of his mouth and looked up at the tiger sitting on him with fury. "Hobbes, you mangy furball – I just got home! Why can't you just…? What…?" He trailed off, looking at his attacker with growing confusion. Something wasn't right. He looked into the tiger's eyes, studied his face, and then he realized.

"Socrates?"

Socrates let his trademark grin split across his face. "How was that? Did I do good? Was it good?" He looked over his shoulder. "Hobbes, was it good?"

Hobbes appeared at the doorway with Sherman in his paws, passing him over to Andy. "Yep! You're off to a good start, Socrates! A little more practice, and pretty soon, you'll be up _my _caliber…"

Calvin sighed. "Getting in touch with your feline side, Socrates?" he asked.

"Yep-er-doodles!" Socrates replied eagerly. "I'm finally beginning to see what Hobbo gets from all this. What a rush!"

"Oh, and it ain't over yet," Calvin said, pushing him off. "You see, now I have to chase you around the yard until I've killed you."

Socrates blinked. "Is that right?"

"Yes."

"Oh… Well, in that case…"

The red-tailed tiger was gone in an instant, running around the back of the house. With a primal screech, Calvin chased after him, shouting with fury. The others watched as they disappeared around the corner.

Hobbes sighed. "I guess this is how it's going to be from now on," he chuckled.

And he began chasing after them, with Andy and Sherman close behind.


	13. Off to the Future

**Author's Note: **_So, here's the epilogue. Nothing particularly substantial, but I think it sets the tone for the next story rather nicely._

* * *

Spring Break had come and gone. It was time for school to start yet again.

The sun peeked up over the neighborhood at an hour that was simply far too early for any sane human being to wake up at, and yet most of them did anyway. The streets were given a slight orange tint that signified that it was time to start the day.

Naturally, Susie Derkins was out and on the sidewalk, waiting for the school bus with a cheerful smile on her face while she read a novel to pass the time. She had already been out there for fifteen minutes when a sleepy-looking Calvin stormed out onto the pavement next to her. He was clearly not in the mood to be educated.

"Good morning, Calvin!" she said in a really annoying cheery voice. "We're going back to school today! I've got all my books and notebooks and a new packet of ink pens! Isn't it wonderful? Just think of all the new things we're going to learn!"

Calvin gave her a longsuffering expression. "Susie…," he said with as much patience as he could muster. "Every morning before school, you give me this 'school is wonderful' spiel, and each time, I get irritated and insult you and your weirdness. Why does someone so eager to learn never learn that I don't agree with you and don't want to hear it?"

Susie blinked, and then she took a few steps away from Calvin proceeded reading again to mask how hurt she was.

Calvin, of course, didn't care at the moment. If anything, it felt incredibly satisfying. He stood on the sidewalk with his eyes shut, waiting for the sound of a bus to arrive.

Unfortunately, it arrived all too soon, and he was forced to open them again and get ready to board.

As it was coming to a stop in front of them, Susie put her book under her arm and grabbed her backpack. "Well," she said irritably, "hopefully, when we move on to second grade this fall, we'll be in different class and won't have to deal with each other anymore."

"Looking forward to it," Calvin grumbled, making to follow her.

Then he froze where he stood.

"Second grade…?" he repeated, sounding as if he'd never heard the words before. "You said 'second grade', right?"

"Uh-huh," she replied, making for the opening doors on the bus.

As she climbed up inside, Calvin took a moment to absorb that. He had been perpetually trapped in Miss Wormwood's insidiously dull first grade class for several years, along with the rest of his classmates. The very idea of moving forward and leaving it behind filled him with a mixture of excitement and terror.

Nevertheless, a huge smile began to split across his face as he realized what it meant. He took a cheerful leap onto the bottom step of the bus and practically skipped up the remaining steps to the aisle. He had places to go, people to meet and things to do!

The bus set off for school.

* * *

**Author's Note: **_Like I said - nothing substantial. Just something to get you excited for the next story._

_First off: the anagram I mentioned was "Latex Finish" which, when unscrambled, spells "Sixth Finale". This was supposed to be the season finale for season six, but alas, circumstances circumvented this, but the story is still completed. _

_Bit of housekeeping: 'The Final Grade' is the next story in line, but I'm a bit burnt out after writing continuously for over a year, so I'm going to refrain from posting so I can work on it at a more leisurely pace. I have already made some progress on it, but I wouldn't expect to start posting it until late in the year, if not 2015. It's definitely coming. Just needs more work.  
_

_In regards to the future of the storyline, yes, Calvin and co are going to be aging. Well, the human characters at any rate. Not to worry. They're not going to suddenly turn forty and become boring minimum wagers with families and humdrum lives. They'll just take it one step at a time. Because the story we're telling is coming to an end. I don't know when, exactly, but we're closer to the end now, and I thought having the characters move forward in such a way would be a good way to close it. Calvin will still be six in the next few stories, but he can't stay that way forever. _

_But one thing is worth noting - just because some things are changing doesn't mean that _everything _has to change. But that's another story..._


End file.
